gladly welcome your daughter to their house. Let her choose
between them. They are young and rich, and of the true faith.
What say you to that?"

Ferrier remained silent for some little time with his brows knitted.

"You will give us time," he said at last. "My daughter is
very young -- she is scarce of an age to marry."

"She shall have a month to choose," said Young, rising from
his seat. "At the end of that time she shall give her answer."

He was passing through the door, when he turned, with flushed
face and flashing eyes. "It were better for you, John Ferrier,"
he thundered, "that you and she were now lying blanched
skeletons upon the Sierra Blanco, than that you should
put your weak wills against the orders of the Holy Four!"

With a threatening gesture of his hand, he turned from the door,
and Ferrier heard his heavy step scrunching along the shingly path.

He was still sitting with his elbows upon his knees,
considering how he should broach the matter to his daughter
when a soft hand was laid upon his, and looking up, he saw
her standing beside him. One glance at her pale, frightened
face showed him that she had heard what had passed.

"I could not help it," she said, in answer to his look.
"His voice rang through the house. Oh, father, father,
what shall we do?"