“Twenty miles from home.”
“Well?”
“Now is it discreet or honorable in you to do this?”
Mary’s haughty lip took an ominous curve. “The same hand that raised you has raised me,” she cried bitterly.
“This is no time to speak of that,” returned Eleanore.
Mary’s countenance flushed. All the antagonism of her nature was aroused. She looked absolutely Juno-like in her wrath and reckless menace. “Eleanore,” she cried, “I am going to F—— to marry Mr. Clavering! Now do you wish to accompany me?”
“I do.”
Mary’s whole manner changed. Leaping forward, she grasped her cousin’s arm and shook it. “For what reason?” she cried. “What do you intend to do?”
“To witness the marriage, if it be a true one; to step between you and shame if any element of falsehood should come in to affect its legality.”
Mary’s hand fell from her cousin’s arm. “I do not understand you,” said she. “I thought you never gave countenance to what you considered wrong.”