"Oh, no, papa!" and with breathless eagerness she repeated the story
with which Egerton had swept away all her doubts. She read incredulity
in her father's face, "You do not believe it, papa?"

"No, my child, no more than I do black is white. See here!" and he
produced Egerton's letter to him, and the one to Arthur, made her
read and compare them, and gave her the further proofs Walter had
furnished.

She grew deathly pale, but was no more ready to be convinced than he.
"Oh, papa, there must be some dreadful mistake! I cannot believe he
could be guilty of such things. The cousin has been personating him,
has forged that letter, perhaps; and the photograph may be his also."

"You are not using your good common-sense, Elsie; the proof is very
full and clear to my mind. The man is a fortune-hunter, seeking your
wealth, not you; a scoundrel whose vices should shut him out of all
decent society. I can hardly endure the thought that he has ever known
you, or dared to address a word to you, and it must never be again."

"Must I give him up?" she asked with pale, quivering lips.

"You must, my daughter; at once and for ever."

A look of anguish swept over her face, then she started, flushed, and
trembled, as a voice and step were heard on the porch without.

"It is he?" her father said inquiringly, and her look answered, "Yes."