“I suggest that you look the paper over before signing, Zee.”
He held the paper toward her, but she shook her head.
“Very well. I have read it to you carefully; and you can, of course, have a copy at any time. It is perfectly proper for you to sign to-night,--the day before your birthday; you can acknowledge it before a notary to-morrow.”
He was smiling, but he held the pen toward her with a hand that shook perceptibly.
Repulsion and pity struggled for the mastery as she pondered, looking away from him into the fire. She felt that she could never meet his eyes again; but she seemed to see them in the flames, the small gray eyes that were so full of cunning and avarice. It was his deceit, his effort to play upon her credulity, that stung her now into a fierce contempt. She rose and turned toward him.
“I wish you would not lie to me, Ezra Dameron,” she said quietly, with even the suggestion of a caress upon the syllables of his name.
The room was very still after she had spoken. Her father did not start or look directly at her, but, after an interval of silence, he lifted his eyes slowly until they met hers.
“You have lied to me,” Zelda repeated in the same passionless voice, speaking as though she were saying some commonplace thing. “I understand perfectly well why you wish to continue this trusteeship. I shall be very glad to do what you ask; only we must understand each other frankly. You must tell me the truth.”
He shrank down slowly into his chair, but his eyes did not leave her face. His hands had ceased trembling, and he was quite himself.
“You don’t know,--you can’t know the enormity of what you are saying, Zee. It must be some horrible joke.” He drew his hand across his eyes as though to dispel a vision. “I have dealt with you generously, considerately,--and this--you can not mean what you say.”
He waited as though he expected some word of contrition; but she still stood with her eyes fastened on him, and there was no kindness in them.
“I have sought your own good. I have supposed you would be gratified to continue--the trust--reposed in me--by your mother.”
“If you speak to me of my mother again I shall find some way of punishing you,” she said, and there was still no passion in her voice.