born, fiddling foreign vagabond who--"

"Hush! The dead are sacred!"

She threw up her hand, with an imperious gesture, not of
deprecation, but of interdict; and all the stony calm in her pale
face seemed shivered by a passionate gust, that made her eyes gleam
like steel under an electric flash.

"I am the daughter of Ignace Brentano, and I love, and honor his
memory, and his name. No drop of your Darrington blood runs in my
veins; I love my dear mother--but I am my father's daughter--and I
want no nobler heritage than his name. Upon you I have no shadow of
claim, but I am here from dire necessity, at your mercy--a helpless,
defenseless pleader in my mother's behalf--and as such, I appeal to
the boasted southern chivalry, upon which you pride yourself, for
immunity from insult while I am under your roof. Since I stood no
taller than your knee, my mother has striven to inculcate a belief
in the nobility, refinement, and chivalric deference to womanhood,
inherent in southern gentlemen; and if it be not all a myth, I
invoke its protection against abuse of my father. A stranger, but a
lady, every inch, I demand the respect due from a gentleman."

For a moment they eyed each other, as gladiators awaiting the
signal, then General Darrington sprang to his feet, and with a bow,
stately and profound as if made to a duchess, replied:

"And in the name of southern chivalry, I swear you shall receive
it."