Short Fiction · The Facts In The Curious Case Of H Hyrtl Esq (5/8) (2/2)

“You won’t,” the old man answered, and in his withered face and sunken eyes there was the obstinacy of a mule. “What I have said I have said. Jenny shall not marry a poor man. Would you take her into that rathole of yours and watch privation, sickness, fever and death visit her one by one. No, sir, not while I am alive.”

“If that be the case,” Hugh in fine fury retorted, “what did you come into my rathole for at all?”

“Because Jenny was in love with you.”

“And do you suppose she is going to stop now?”

“I don’t know, but you shan’t have her. You are poor and so is she.”

“But if love and matrimony were only permitted to the rich the earth would crumble.”

“Let her crumble. You shan’t have my daughter. She is as like her mother as two peas. I won’t have her die of want. You shan’t have her, I say.”

“But consider the difference. You were a clerk in a grocery-shop. However hard you may have worked, you couldn’t earn a dollar more than your salary. Whereas I am a painter, and my brush will bring me both fortune and fame.”

“I hope it may, but by that time Jenny will be gray-headed. No, sir, you shan’t have her.”

“I shall.”

“You shall not.”

“Mr. Sisseton, remember this: you can’t help yourself. Your daughter is of age, the law prevents you from interfering.”

“It does, does it? Well, what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. The law makes this my castle, and I order you hence. Begone!”

“Mr. Sisseton⁠—”

“Begone, I say!”

“Very good, sir, I will go since you command it, but I will return with a summons. Jenny, my love, my chosen, but not mine, be brave.”

And therewith this hotheaded young fellow, his head erect, stalked from the room.