IV.
General Wyatt, Constance, and Mrs. Wyatt.
Constance.—"Oh, ha, ha, ha! Oh, ha, ha, ha, ha!"
General Wyatt.—"Margaret! Constance!" At the sound of his voice, Constance starts up with a little cry, and stiffens into an attitude of ungracious silence, without looking at her father, who turns with an expression of pain toward her mother.
Mrs. Wyatt.—"Yes, James. We were laughing at something Constance had been telling me about Mr. Bartlett. Tell your father, Constance."
Constance, coldly, while she draws through her hand the handkerchief which she has been pressing to her eyes.—"I don't think it would amuse papa." She passes her hand across her lap, and does not lift her heavy eye-lashes.
Mrs. Wyatt, caressingly.—"Oh, yes, it would; I'm sure it would."
Constance.—"You can tell it then, mamma."
Mrs. Wyatt.—"No; you, my dear. You tell it so funnily; and"—in a lower tone—"it's so long since your father heard you laugh."
Constance.—"There was nothing funny in it. It was disgusting. I was laughing from nervousness."
Mrs. Wyatt.—"Why, Constance"—
General Wyatt.—"Never mind, Margaret. Another time will do." He chooses to ignore the coldness of his daughter's bearing toward himself. "I came to see if Constance were not strong enough to go out on the lake this morning. The boats are very good, and the air is so fine that I think she'll be the better for it. Mr. Bartlett is going out to the island to sketch, and"—
Constance.—"I don't care to go."
Mrs. Wyatt.—"Do go, my daughter! I know it will do you good."
Constance.—"I am not strong enough."
Mrs. Wyatt.—"But you said you were better, just now; and you should yield to to your father's judgment."
Constance.—"I will do whatever papa bids me."
General Wyatt.—"I don't bid you. Margaret, I think I will go out with Mr. Bartlett. We will be back at dinner." He turns and leaves the room without looking again at Constance.