You are mine by law, and I am going to stick to the law." Jessie was trembling so, she could scarcely drag her limbs along, but she did her best to obey her father's command, a wild hope springing up in her heart that if once she got within the shelter of home and granny, all would be well.
As she opened the cottage door she heard her grandmother's voice calling down to her.

"Why, Jessie, wherever have you been?
I was afraid something had happened.

The kettle has boiled over and over until the fire must be nearly put out." But she had scarcely finished speaking before Jessie dashed up the stairs and into her room breathless, almost speechless, her face white, and with a look on it that haunted Patience Dawson for many a long day.
"Oh, granny, he's come, father's come, and he's going to take me away! Oh, granny, what shall I do! Save me! save me! don't let him have me! I'm afraid of him!" But before Mrs.Dawson, in her utter bewilderment and fright, could take in what it all meant, heavy footsteps mounted the stairs quickly, and she saw Harry Lang, the man she so detested and dreaded, standing in the doorway.
"Don't make that row," he shouted roughly to the child, "nice way that to carry on when your dear grandmother is ill! Do you want to make her worse! Be quiet, can't you, and be quick.

I've got no time to waste." Jessie subsided into silence, a little moan alone escaping her as she clung to her grandmother.
"It's simple enough," he went on, turning to Mrs.Dawson, "I want my daughter, and I've come to fetch her.

You've had her for five years, and now I want her for five--or fifteen, or fifty," he added, "just as it suits me." "You can't--you've no right--you deserted her.