No man nor woman at Fox Tor Farm had ever witnessed an explosion of human passion so awful as shook Maurice Malherb upon his discovery. Annabel, in tears, confided to Peter Norcot that her husband had taken his daughter by the shoulders, shaken her nearly senseless, then flung her upon her bed. He had raged and roared until the house was a cave of harsh echoes; he had made fast his daughter\'s chamber door from the outside, and dared any living soul to approach the sinner without his permission.

"In the case of these tropical tempests," explained Peter, "nothing can be done. Happily they are short. \'In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.\' For my part, I return home immediately. Everybody here must get under shelter and wait for a change of wind."

"Argument is vain," said Annabel.

"Tut, tut! Who argues with a volcano? Write to me in a day or two; and have no fear for the dear girl. Half his rage now is because he so far lost his self-command as to shake her. A shaking after all—well, by my faith, she deserves it. To correspond with Cecil Stark! When I say that it was naughty, I understate the offence. However, that matter lies in a nutshell. Get rid of her messenger. John Lee\'s the man. Despatch him; and let him know that I\'ll befriend him. Farewell, until a brighter star shines over us, my dear Annabel."

Towards evening, when his wrath had somewhat abated, Mrs. Malherb told her husband of Norcot\'s departure—a fact he had not noticed for himself. She added particulars of his last advice; and before the moon rose John Lee had passed out of Fox Tor Farm for ever. With difficulty Beer and Kekewich withstood their master, for he had rushed among his people with a horsewhip.

"I was her servant, sir, to do her bidding," said Lee quietly; then he rose from his meal to depart. One ghastly blow he received across his face; and he clapped his hand to it and went out, while Kekewich interposed his stunted figure between Malherb and the groom.

"You\'ve done enough for one day," he said without flinching. "Best to cool down, else your raging fires will set your brain on light and cast you into Bedlam."

"\'Enough\'! Is it enough that a man\'s daughter——?" began Malherb. Then he broke off and rolled his eyes upon their frightened faces until the pallid and rotund orb of Mr. Cockey\'s countenance challenged his glance.

"And you, tailor, work as you never worked yet! Let your trash be done next week, or take it back again."

He quitted the hall abruptly; and for the rest of that dim day his wife suffered him alone. Her prayers he cried down; her tears he dried by terror. He ordered her not to weep, and frightened her into obedience. She believed that he was going mad and suffered untold dismay until, cast up like a drowned thing by the waves of his passion, physical nature collapsed and Malherb slept. Groaning and moaning in the dream scenery begot of his wild spirit, she left him, crept to the prisoner and took Grace to her bosom.

For an hour they held mournful discourse, but Annabel did all the weeping. Her father\'s temper animated the girl and she panted with indignation.

"I weary of your tears, dearest mother," she said. "If you may fetch me some food I should be thankful for it. That smooth coward to peep into my room! And to tell! I will jump from my window on to the kind granite sooner than marry him!"

Annabel mourned her daughter\'s folly; she explained how that John Lee had been dismissed at a moment\'s notice; and then, changing her mood, she talked herself into quite another frame of mind, and began to upbraid the sinner with all her might.

"\'Twas a very unmaidenly thing, and that much I stoutly tell you. To have an understanding with a man, and one who is your country\'s enemy! Your father has destroyed the flag. He thrust it into the red-hot peat and scorched his own hand badly. He raved against the very foundations of the earth when he burnt himself. Like Samson, he would have dragged down the house if he could. Oh, you are a thorn, not a daughter! He is breaking his great heart. Treachery is beyond his understanding. I blush for you, Grace Malherb."

"I wish you would get me some food; I\'m starving," said the girl wearily. "He would not grudge me bread and water."

"That is what he said just before he slept. \'Bread and water,\' said he; then his voice grew softer on the brink of sleep, and he said, \'She may have milk too.\'"

"I love him through it all!"

Mrs. Malherb\'s tears flowed again. She left her daughter and presently returned with the food.

"He didn\'t say \'twas not to be warmed, so I\'ve heated it for you. Oh, my pretty, wicked sweet—how could you do a deed so unbecoming?"

"I don\'t know, mother," answered Grace, beginning to eat. "These things happen. I liked Mr. Cecil Stark very much, and I like his country and his ideas about right and wrong."

"A young man\'s ideas upon such subjects are usually very mistaken."

"In the third letter he wrote me he asked me to make a flag for him, and I consented after carefully weighing the matter in my mind."

"What should he want with a flag, poor soul?"

"\'Twas for the Fourth of July—the Anniversary of their Independence. There—the bread and milk are gone. Good night, kind mother. I\'m sorry you ever had a daughter."

"The female character has always been beyond me," confessed Mrs. Malherb. "The difference between a boy and a girl, as Peter once said, is the difference between a dog and a cat. A dog is so much more reasonable, so much easier to comprehend and direct. Slyness: \'tis a feline thing; and as to obedience, it certainly comes more natural to a son than a daughter, though I know not why. At any rate, it is so where a mother\'s concerned. A son will do anything so gladly for his mother—if you don\'t ask him to interfere with his own comfort. And what mother worthy of the name would do that? Not that disobedience to parents was ever recorded against either sex in our rank of society when I was a girl. Now good night, child. Try to sleep, and let your prayer be the same as mine—that it will please God to lift your dear father\'s wrath by morning."

But with the return of day Malherb still wasted his nervous energy in anger. He refused to see his daughter or to liberate her. He wandered miles upon the high Moors alone; then going back again, he returned to the infamous treatment he had suffered and the torment of possessing a thankless child. Presently he attacked his wife, and cursed her past folly and ignorance.

"You are to blame for all!" he said. "\'Twas your upbringing—so weak, so fond—that bred this devil in her. Would to God you had more of my own mother\'s spirit in you. Look at me. I owe everything to my education. She was a Roman mother. Had you been more like her, this minx had never dared to flout a father. But, by God, I\'ll break her now or never!"

Within the day Malherb arrived at a determination; but he told his wife and Kekewich only. Then a letter reached Peter Norcot. The secret, however, leaked out, for Kekewich confided it to Mordecai Cockey, and Mr. Cockey uttered it aloud as a mournful fact in the hearing of Dinah Beer. That night Richard Beer naturally heard it; and then the news reached Harvey Woodman\'s ears. Finally it came to the intelligence of Tom Putt, and made his heart quicken by a stroke or two in the minute. For Putt had taken this matter much to heart.

"\'Tis become a common prison, wi\' that lovely miss locked up as if she\'s done a murder, \'stead of fall into love with a fine gentleman," grumbled Thomas. "For my part, I can\'t stand it very much longer. Ban\'t a manly thing for us chaps to bide here an\' know a maiden\'s being starved to death on bread an\' water under the same roof with us."

"Her done it underhand," said Woodman. "If it wasn\'t for that, I\'d feel the same as you."

"Well she might do it underhand wi\' a tiger for a parent."

"Best you pick your words, else you\'ll go after Jack Lee, wi\' a flea in your ear," returned Woodman. "I say \'tis a very terrible proceeding," he continued. "An\' seeing the chap\'s a Yankee, nought can be done. \'Tis an unthinkable thing for one of our bettermost young women to marry an American. I\'m \'mazed she could give her mind to such a rash deed."

"That\'s because you haven\'t got more ideas than a cow," said Mary Woodman fi............