"I have three hundred a year," said Ronald, calmly; "that my
godfather left me."

Lord Earle's face now grew white with anger.

"Yes," he replied, "you have that; it would not find you in
gloves and cigars now. But, Ronald, you can not be serious, my
boy. I have loved you--I have been so proud of you--you can
not mean to defy and wound me."

His voice faltered, and his son looked up quickly, touched to the
heart by his father's emotion.

"Give me your consent, father," he cried, passionately. "You
know I love you, and I love Dora; I can not give up Dora."

"Enough," said Lord Earle; "words seem useless. You hear my
final resolve; I shall never change it--no after repentance, no
entreaties, will move me. Choose between your parents, your home,
your position, and the love of this fair, foolish girl, of whom
in a few months you will be tired and weary. Choose between us.
I ask for no promises; you have refused to give it. I appeal no
more to your affection; I leave you to decide for yourself. I
might coerce and force you, but I will not do so. Obey me, and I
will make your happiness my study. Defy me, and marry the girl
then, in life, I will never look upon your face again.
Henceforth, I will have no son; you will not be worthy of the
name. There is no appeal. I leave you now to make your choice;
this is my final resolve."