Part 3 (2/2)

Then, dragging myself from his embrace and stuttering with rage, ”How dare you!” I gasped. ”How dare you!”

He looked sulky and offended.

”You said you would marry me--what is a fellow to understand?”

”You are to understand that I will not be mauled and--and kissed like--like Hephzibah at the back door,” I said, with freezing dignity, my head in the air.

”Hoity-toity!” (hideous expression!) ”What airs you give yourself! But you look so deuced pretty when you are angry!” I did not melt, but stood on the defensive.

He became supplicating again.

”Ambrosine, I love you--don't be cross with me. I won't make you angry again until you are used to me. Ambrosine, say you forgive me.”

He took my hand. His hands are horrid to touch--coa.r.s.e and damp. I shuddered involuntarily.

He looked pained at that. A dark-red flush came over all his face. He squared his shoulders and got over the window-sill again.

”You cold statue!” he said, spitefully. ”I will leave you.”

”Go,” was all I said, and I did not move an inch.

He stood looking at me for a few moments, then with one bound he was in the room again and had seized me in his arms.

”No, I sha'n't!” he exclaimed. ”You have promised, and I don't care what you say or do. I will keep you to your word.”

Mercifully, at that moment Hephzibah opened the door, and in the confusion her entrance caused him, he let me go. I simply flew from the room and up to my own; and there, I am ashamed to say, I cried--sat on the floor and cried like a gutter-child. Oh, if grandmamma could have seen me, how angry she would have been! I have never been allowed to cry--a relaxation for the lower cla.s.ses, she has always told me.

My face burned. All the bottles of Lubin in grandmamma's cupboard would not wash off the stain of that kiss, I felt. I scrubbed my face until it was crimson, and then I heard grandmamma's voice and had to pull myself together.

I have always said she had hawk's eyes; they see everything, even with the blinds down in her room. When I went in she noticed my red lids and asked the cause of them.

”Mr. Gurrage has been here and has asked me to marry him, grandmamma,”

I said.

”At this hour in the morning! What does the young man mean?”

”He saw me dusting the Sevres from the road and came in.”

Grandmamma kissed me--a thing of the greatest rareness.

”My child,” she said, ”try and remember to accept fate without noise.

Now go and rest until breakfast, or you will not be pretty for your ball to-night.”

The Marquis's congratulations were different when we met in the _salle a manger_; he kissed my hand. How cool and fine his old, withered fingers felt!

”You will be the most beautiful _debutante_ to-night, _ma chere enfant_,” he said; ”and all the _felicitations_ are for Monsieur Gurrage. You are a n.o.ble girl--but such is life. My wife detested me--_dans le temps_. But what will you?”

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