Suddenly she began to sob hysterically, and falling upon her knees, endeavoured to take Mrs. Brandon’s hand in hers; but Mrs. Brandon pushed her away with surprising violence, and rising from her chair, said:
“Cecil is going to Africa—I am sending him there on purpose to place him out of your reach!”
“Oh, you are a hard, hard woman!” said Annie, struggling to her feet. “Will nothing I can do, or say, change you or soften your heart?”
“Nothing.”
Annie now turned and appealed to Cecil, and in vain. The battle between two strong women for a weak man raged, but in the end the mother won. Out on the lobby Cecil contrived to snatch a few moments with Annie, assuring her that it would be all right, and that they would be true to one another, and be married when he returned in two years’ time.
“Stand up for yourself now,” she answered fiercely, “stand up for yourself, and me; you are a man, you are five-and-thirty, and should know your own mind. We can be independent of your mother, and I am ready to marry you to-morrow!”
“No, no, no,” he replied, “the mater has so much in her power, I dare not risk it. Think of all she has to leave; and if she says that she will cut me off with a shilling, by Jove, she’ll do it! We will just bide our time—it will soon pass,” he declared, with cheerful optimism, “and you and I will be married when I come back.”
“If you allow your mother to drive you out of the country,” said Annie, and her face was white and rigid, “I tell you—that you will never come back!”
At this he gave a funny little cackling laugh, and said:
“I bet you I will! I lay you fifty to one—eh?”