"How dare you, how dare you speak of me in that way?" she said in a voice which trembled with passion. "Some day you shall answer to me for it. If we were not in a foreign country, you should answer to me for it now."
"It is good of you to put it off until we are in our own country," said Mrs Stanhope, with a forced laugh. But she looked uneasy, for Katharine's flushed and angry face was not reassuring.
At that moment the Sorenskriver, the Swedish mathematical Professor, the little Swedish artist, and the Frenchman came out of the stue.
"Well," asked the Sorenskriver, "are we all ready? Thou art not glad to leave the Saeter, Jens. Nor am I. But all good times must come to an end. Nei, da, Fröken Frensham! Are we leaving just when you have found compatriots? That is too bad."
"Oh, I think I can do without them for the present," Katharine said, with a laugh. She had composed herself outwardly, but inwardly she was consumed with anger and mortified pride. But her moral courage did not forsake her, although she knew that Mrs Stanhope had deliberately tried to put her at a disadvantage with that man and that boy. But she trusted them. She returned to them, and said, with a wistful smile on her face:
"I heard her voice down by the lake-side. That was why I felt distressed. I knew she would spoil our happiness—yours—the boy's—mine."
"She has always spoilt our happiness," the boy said.
"Always," said the man—"always."
Then Alan did an unexpected thing.