Part 41 (1/2)

”It is not!” she retorted, fiercely. ”It is beautiful and honest and--sane, and I'm going there as often as they will let me--and I'm going to leave the Pratt house to-morrow! I will not stay there another day.”

”There are others to be consulted about this,” he grimly answered.

”You have tried playing truant before.”

She was now in full tide of revolt. ”I am going to leave that house if I fall dead in the streets. I am going if 'they' choke me black in the face.”

He sneered. ”I know where you are going!”

At this moment she hated him and everything he stood for, and her voice was hoa.r.s.e with her pa.s.sion. ”I don't care what you say or what you do, I will not be hounded and driven around like a slave by you or Simeon Pratt any longer. I'm going to have a little life of my own if 'they' tear me in pieces for it.”

This outburst, so much more intense than any which had preceded it, alarmed Clarke and appalled Mrs. Lambert, who took her daughter in her arm with soothing words and caresses. ”There, there, dearie! Don't worry--don't excite yourself. Father will not insist on your doing anything that will be harmful. He will protect you.”

The girl, sobbing in reaction, bowed to the maternal bosom, feeling once more her own helplessness, receiving no help from her mother's sympathy, which was merely superficial. Her only hope of release lay in the strong, bright, self-reliant, humorous people she had just left, those to whom her grandfather and his ”band” were less than shadows. They alone could save her from the despairing madness which she felt creeping upon her like a beast in the night. Her nerves, strung to dangerous tension, gave away utterly, and Clarke, realizing this, ceased to chide, and the ride ended without another word.

Pratt, who had been waiting for hours with the angry impatience of senility, met them at the door, truculent as a terrier. ”What time o'

night do you call this?” he asked, with insulting inflection.

Mrs. Lambert answered: ”I'm very sorry, but we had a sitting, and it took longer--”

”A sitting!” He faced Viola. ”What did you do that for? I told you I didn't want any sittings given unless I was present, and you promised not to give any.”

”I did not!” she replied, lifting a tear-stained but imperious face to him.

”Well, Clarke did.”

Clarke hastily interposed: ”The 'chief control' asked for it--said he wanted to talk to some of those present.”

”I don't care what the 'chief control' said--”

Viola, thoroughly roused, now faced him, pale and scornful. ”What right have you to ask where I've been or what I've done? I am not your servant--nor one of your poor relatives. You seem to forget that. I will not be your guest another day! I'd leave this house this instant if I could. I came here against my wish, and I will not be insulted by you any longer. I wish I had never seen you.” And with haughty step she started to pa.s.s him.

He put out a hand to stay her. ”Hold on, now!”

With flas.h.i.+ng eyes and a voice that smote him like a whip, she cried out, ”Leave me alone, please!” He fell back against the wall, and she pa.s.sed on and up the stairway, leaving him leaning there in dismay, his jaw lax.

The mother hastily followed, and as the door closed behind them Viola turned with blazing eyes. ”This is horrible--disgraceful! I hope you enjoy being treated like that! How can you endure it? How can you ask me to endure it? If Anthony Clarke possessed one shred of real manhood--But he hasn't. He's so selfishly bent on his own plans he's willing to let me suffer anything. I'm done with him, mother. You needn't try to find excuse for him. I don't see how I endured him so long. He must never touch me again.”

”Don't do anything rash, child.”

”Will you submit to more insult? You can stay on till you are ordered out of the house if you like, but I will not!”

”But you know they advise it.”

The girl turned, a new tone in her voice. ”There, now, mother, we come back to that again! I'm tired of hearing that. If they insist on our staying here I will be sure they are the voices of devils and not those they claim to be. I don't believe my father would ask me to stay in a house where the very servants sniff at us. I don't believe he would let Anthony make use of me in this way. Professor Serviss calls our faith a delusion, and to-night I almost hope he's right. I have lost the spirit of the martyr, and everything seems foolish to me.”

Mrs. Lambert regarded her daughter with horror. ”Child, some earth-bound spirit has surely taken possession of you.”

”I hope it will stay till to-morrow--till I get out of this house,”