Part 6 (1/2)
”Now, auntie, listen; just you forget and forgive all this old feud business,--for my sake,--and Dorcas'; be n.o.ble, rise above your old, petty quarrel with Mrs Everett, and give us your bond of peace as a wedding present.”
His pleading tones, his hopeful smile held Miss Prall's attention for a moment, and then she blazed forth:
”Richard Bates, I cannot believe it. Ingrate! Snake in the gra.s.s! To deceive me,--to carry on an affair like this, for you must have done so,--under my very nose, and keep it all so sly! Dorcas Everett!
daughter of my enemy,--my long time foe,--the most despicable woman in the world! And, knowing all about it, you deliberately cultivate the acquaintance of her daughter and secretly go on to the point of wanting to marry her! I can't believe it! It's too monstrous! Were there no other girls in the world,--in your life,--that you must choose that one?
You can't have been so diabolical as to have done it purposely to break my heart!”
”Oh, no, Auntie, I didn't do that! I chanced to meet Dorcas,--one day at Janet Fayre's,--and, somehow, we both fell in love at once!”
”Stop! don't tell me another word! Get out, Eliza!” as Miss Gurney reappeared at the door. ”I told you to get out! Now, stay out! Get away from me, Richard; you can't help any by trying to fawn around me! You don't know what you've done,--I grant you that! You don't know--you can't know,--how you've crucified me!”
Springing up from her chair, Miss Prall darted from the room, and out into the hall. Down one flight of stairs she ran, and furiously pealed the bell of Mrs Everett's apartment on the floor below.
The maid who opened the door was startled at the visitor's appearance, but the angry caller asked for no one; she pushed her way past the servant, and faced Mrs Everett in her own reception room.
”Do you know what's going on, Adeline Everett? Do you know that your daughter is--is interested in my nephew? Answer me that!”
”I don't know it, and I don't believe it,” returned Mrs Everett, a plump, blonde matron, whose touched-up golden hair was allowed to show no gray, and whose faintly pink cheeks were solicitously cared for.
”Ask her!” quivered Let.i.tia Prall's angry voice, and she clenched her long thin fingers in ill-controlled rage.
”I will; she's in the next room. Come in here, Dorcas. Tell Miss Prall she is mistaken,--presumptuously mistaken.”
The haughty stare with which the hostess regarded her guest continued until Dorcas, coming in, said, with a pretty blush and smile, ”I'm afraid she isn't mistaken, Mother.”
”Just what do you mean?” Mrs Everett asked, icily, transferring her gaze to her daughter.
Very sweet and appealing Dorcas looked as she realized the crucial moment had arrived. Now she must take her stand for all time. Her big, dark eyes turned from one furious face to the other as the two women waited her response. Her face paled a little as she saw their att.i.tude, their implacable wrath, their hatred of each other, and their momentarily suspended judgment of herself. Yet she stood her ground.
With a pretty dignity, she spoke quietly and in a calm, steady voice:
”I heard what Miss Prall said,” she began, ”I couldn't help it, as I was so near, and all I can say is, that it is true. I am not only interested in Richard Bates, but I love him. He loves me,--and we hope--oh, mumsie,--be kind!--we hope you two will make up your quarrel for our sakes!”
”Go to your room, Dorcas,” her mother said, and in those words the girl read her doom. She knew her mother well, and she saw beyond all shadow of doubt that there was no leniency to be hoped for. She sensed in her mother's expression as she p.r.o.nounced the short sentence, an absolute and immutable decision. She might as well plead for the moon, as for her mother's permission to be interested in Let.i.tia Prall's nephew.
”Wait a minute,” countermanded Miss Prall. ”Answer me this, Dorcas. Are you and my nephew engaged? Has it come to that?”
”Yes,” the girl answered, thinking quickly, and deciding it best to force the issue.
”Hus.h.!.+” commanded her mother; ”go to your room!”
Mrs Everett fairly pushed her daughter through the door, closed it, and then said: ”There is little need of further remark on this subject. We might have known it would come,--at least we might have feared it. One of us must leave this house. Will you go or shall I?”
”You take no thought of the young people's heart-break?”
”I do not! Dorcas will get over it; I don't care whether your nephew does or not. I can take care of my child, and that's all that interests me.”
”You think you can,--but perhaps you do not know the depth of their attachment or the strength of their wills.”
”It is not for you, an unmarried woman, to instruct me in the ways of young lovers! I repeat, Let.i.tia Prall, I can take care of my daughter.