Arch stood erect,
his arms folded on his breast. He did not move, nor offer to take the
proffered hand. Mr. Trevlyn gave a start of surprise, and seizing a lamp
from the table, held it up to the face of the young man. Arch did not
flinch; he bore the insulting scrutiny with stony calmness.
The old man dashed down the lamp, and put his hand to his forehead. His
face was livid with passion, his voice choked so as to be scarcely
audible.
"Margie, Margie Harrison!" he exclaimed, "what is this person's name?"
"Archer Trevlyn, sir," answered the girl, amazed at the strange behavior
of the two men.
"Just as I thought! Hubert's son!"
"Yes," said Arch, speaking with painful calmness, "I am Hubert's son; the
son of the man your wicked cruelty murdered."
Mr. Trevlyn seized his cane and rushed upon his grandson; but Margie
sprang forward and threw her arm across the breast of Arch.
"Strike him, if you dare!" she said, "but you shall strike a woman!"
Mr. Trevlyn looked at her, and the weapon dropped to the floor.
"Margaret Harrison," he said, sternly, "leave this room. This is no place
for you. Obey me!"
"I am subject to no man's authority," she said, boldly; "and I will not
leave the room. You shall not insult a gentleman to whom I owe my life,
and who is here as my invited guest!"
"I shall defend myself! There is murder in that fellow's eye, if I ever
saw it in that of any human being!"
"I am answerable for his conduct," she said with proud dignity.
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