Part 13 (2/2)
”Must I explain? With his heart full of you, do you think he should marry this girl?”
”Oh, _his_ heart!” says Mrs. Bethune. ”Has he a heart? Dear Margaret, don't be an enthusiast; be like everybody else. It is so much more comfortable.”
”You can put it off like this,” says Miss Knollys in a low tone. ”It is very simple; but you should think. I have always thought you--you liked Maurice, but you were a--a friend of his. Save him from this.
Don't let him marry this child.”
”I don't think he will marry a child!” says Mrs. Bethune, laughing.
”You mean----”
”I mean nothing at all--nothing, really,” says Marian. ”But that baby! My dear Margaret, how impossible!”
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW A STORM RAGED; AND HOW, WHEN A MAN AND WOMAN MET FACE TO FACE, THE VICTORY--FOR A WONDER--WENT TO THE MAN.
There has been a second scene between Lady Rylton and Sir Maurice--this time a terrible scene. She had sent for him directly after dinner, and had almost commanded him to marry Miss Bolton. She had been very bitter in her anger, and had said strange things of Marian. Sir Maurice had come off triumphant, certainly, if greatly injured, and with his heart on fire. He had, at all events, sworn he would not marry the little Bolton girl. Those perpetual insinuations! What had his mother meant by saying that Marian was laying herself out to catch Lord Dunkerton, an old baron in the neighbourhood, with some money and a damaged reputation? That could not be true--he would not believe it. That old beast! Marian would not so much as look at him. And yet--had she not been very civil to him at that ball last week?
Coming out from his mother's boudoir, a perfect storm of fury in his heart, he finds himself face to face with Marian. Something in his face warns her. She would have gone by him with a light word or two, but, catching her by the wrist, he draws her into a room on his left.
”You have had another quarrel with your mother,” says she sympathetically, ignoring the anger blazing in his eyes. ”About that silly girl?”
”No. About you!”
His tone is short--almost violent.
”About me?”
She changes colour.
”Yes, you. She accuses you of encouraging that wretched old man, Dunkerton. Do you _hear?_ Speak! Is it true?”
”This is madness!” says Marian, throwing out her hands. ”How _could_ you believe such folly? That old man! Why will you give ear to such gossip?”
”Put an end to it, then,” says he savagely.
”I? How can I put an end to it?”
”By marrying _me!”_
He stands opposite to her, almost compelling her gaze in return.
Mrs. Bethune gives it fearlessly.
”Maurice dearest, you are excited now. Your mother--she is _so_ irritating. I know her. Marriage, as we now stand, would mean quite dreadful things. Do be reasonable!”
<script>