You will lose my love, my esteem, and what perhaps those who have lured you to ruin may value still more, my wealth.

I can not disinherit you; but, if you persist in this folly, I will not allow you one farthing.

You shall be to me as one dead until I die myself." "I have three hundred a year," said Ronald, calmly; "that my godfather left me." Lord Earle's face now grew white with anger.
"Yes," he replied, "you have that; it would not find you in gloves and cigars now.

But, Ronald, you can not be serious, my boy.

I have loved you--I have been so proud of you--you can not mean to defy and wound me." His voice faltered, and his son looked up quickly, touched to the heart by his father's emotion.
"Give me your consent, father," he cried, passionately.