Part 12 (2/2)
”Well, well--what is it?--What is all this?” he said, glancing with a troubled eye from one to the other. ”Speak, someone. Mrs. Marston, you sent for me; what is it?”
”I want to know, Mr. Marston, from your own lips,” said the lady, in reply, ”whether Rhoda is to obey me or Mademoiselle de Barras?”
”Bah!--A question of women's prerogative,” said Marston, with muttered vehemence.
”Of a wife's and a mother's prerogative, Richard,” said Mrs. Marston, with gentle emphasis. ”A very simple question, and one I should have thought needing no deliberation to decide it.”
”Well, child,” sad he, turning to Rhoda, with angry irony, ”pray what is all this fuss about? You are a very ill used young lady, I dare aver.
Pray what cruelties does Mademoiselle de Barras propose inflicting upon you, that you need to appeal thus to your mother for protection?”
”You quite mistake me, Richard,” interposed Mrs. Marston; ”Rhoda is perfectly pa.s.sive in the matter. I simply wish to learn from you, in mademoiselle's presence, whether I or she is to command my daughter?”
”Command!” said Marston, evading the direct appeal; ”and pray what is all this commanding about?--What do you want the girl to do?”
”I wish her to remain here with me for a little time, and mademoiselle, knowing this, desires her instantly to go to the music-room, and leave me. That is all,” said Mrs. Marston.
”And pray, is there nothing to make her going to the music-room advisable or necessary? Has she no music to learn, or studies to pursue? Pshaw!
Mrs. Marston, what needs all this noise about nothing? Go, miss,” he added, sharply and peremptorily, addressing Rhoda, ”go this moment to the music-room.”
The girl glided from the room, and mademoiselle, as she followed, shot a glance at Mrs. Marston which wounded and humbled her in the dust.
”Oh! Richard, Richard, if you knew all, you would not have subjected me to this indignity,” she said; and throwing her arms about his neck, she wept, for the first time for many a long year, upon his breast.
Marston was embarra.s.sed and agitated. He disengaged her arms from his neck, and placed her gently in a chair. She sobbed on for some time in silence--a silence which Marston himself did not essay to break. He walked to the door, apparently with the intention of leaving her. He hesitated however, and returned; took a hurried turn through the room; hesitated again; sat down; then returned to the door, not to depart, but to close it carefully, and walked gloomily to the window, whence he looked forth, buried in agitating and absorbing thoughts.
”Richard, to you this seems a trifling thing; but, indeed it is not so,”
said Mrs. Marston, sadly.
”You are very right, Gertrude,” he said, quickly, and almost with a start; ”it is very far from a trifling thing; it is very important.”
”You don't blame me, Richard?” said she.
”I blame n.o.body,” said he.
”Indeed, I never meant to offend you, Richard,” she urged.
”Of course not; no, no; I never said so,” he interrupted, sarcastically; ”what could you gain by that?”
”Oh! Richard, better feelings have governed me,” she said, in a melancholy and reproachful tone.
”Well, well, I suppose so,” he said; and after an interval, he added abstractedly, ”This cannot, however, go on; no, no--it cannot. Sooner or later it must have come; better at once--better now.”
”What do you mean, Richard?” she said, greatly alarmed, she knew not why.
”What are you resolving upon? Dear Richard, in mercy tell me. I implore of you, tell me.”
”Why, Gertrude, you seem to me to fancy that, because I don't talk about what is pa.s.sing, that I don't see it either. Now this is quite a mistake,” said Marston, calmly and resolutely--”I have long observed your growing dislike of Mademoiselle de Barras. I have thought it over; this fracas of today has determined me; it is decisive. I suppose you now wish her to go, as earnestly as you once wished her to stay. You need not answer. I know it. I neither ask nor care to whose fault I am to attribute these changed feelings--female caprice accounts sufficiently for it; but whatever the cause, the effect is undeniable; and the only way to deal satisfactorily with it is, to dismiss mademoiselle at once.
You need take no part in the matter; I take it upon myself. Tomorrow morning she shall have left this house. I have said it, and am perfectly resolved.”
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