Laverne threw herself at Mrs. Westbury's feet, and buried her face on the elder's lap, shuddering in every limb.
"Oh, I cannot! I cannot!" she cried passionately. "No, do not ask me. I cannot love him, he does not love me. Why, it is like being sold——"
"Hush, you silly girl. There is no being sold about it. He has asked for your hand honorably. It is a chance out of a thousand. Any girl would jump at it. Your father put his money in the Grange for you, and you will be a most ungrateful daughter not to accede to his wishes. When you have made up your mind you will find Lord Wrexford most agreeable. It can be a late spring marriage, and you really will be the envy of many a high-born girl when you step among them. You can be presented at the last drawing room, Lady Wrexford! Why, you would be worse than an idiot to refuse it."
Laverne rose. "No, I cannot—I cannot," shuddering.
"Your father will have his say to-morrow. There, no words. You can go to your room, and resolve that you will pay due respect to your father. You are under age."
She was glad to go. Oh, yes, she had been blind. For the last month Lord Wrexford had really been their devoted admirer. Most of his conversation had been addressed to Mrs. Westbury. Yet he had watched her closely, she recalled that now. He had shown a delicate solicitude in many things. Oh, could it be possible that he really cared for her! That would make it so much harder. And how could she meet her father, how defy him! Yes, she was really afraid of him. Oh, if he would only be angry and send her back to California!
She opened the window as if she could look across to the old home. The fog was absolute blackness, chilling, penetrating every nerve. She shut it down again, but the breath of it seemed to strangle her. She did not cry, her terror and dread were too deep for tears.
She would hear him come home presently, his full, strong voice, and they would talk it over. So she listened and listened. The clocks inside struck midnight, then the small hours. Would she never get to sleep!
Somewhere toward dawn there was a sharp clang of the bell, and strange voices. Then hurried steps up and down, Mrs. Westbury giving a shriek, crying out confusedly, calling the maid, going downstairs, then a carriage driving away, and the servants still talking. She opened her door.
"Oh, what is it, what is it?" she asked.