unhappy young man.

"I never broke my word," he continued, "and never shall. You
have chosen your own path; take it. You preferred this Dora to
me; go to her. I told you if you persisted in your folly, I
would never look upon your face again, and I never will."

"Oh, Rupert!" cried Lady Earle; "be merciful. He is my only
child. I shall die if you send him from me."

"He preferred this Dora to you or to me," said Lord Earle. "I am
sorry for you, Helena--Heaven knows it wrings my heart--but I
shall not break my word! I will not reproach you," he continued,
turning to his son, "it would be a waste of time and words; you
knew the alternative, and are doubtless prepared for it."

"I must bear it, father; the deed was my own," said Ronald.

"We will end this scene," said Lord Earle, turning from his
unhappy wife, who was weeping passionately. "Look at your
mother, Ronald; kiss her for the last time and go from her; bear
with you the memory of her love and of her tenderness, and of how
you have repaid them. Take your last look at me. I have loved
you--I have been proud of you, hopeful for you; now I dismiss
you from my presence, unworthy son of a noble race. The same
roof will never shelter us again. Make what arrangements you
will. You have some little fortune; it must maintain you. I
will never contribute one farthing to the support of my lodge
keeper's daughter. Go where you like--do as you like. You have
chosen your own path. Some day you must return to Earlescourt as