The storm in her had subsided in a moment. I wondered, but was not in the least mollified.
“You have shown me nothing,” I said, “but the way to right myself at last with my relations. Now you can go.”
She did not move, however, but turned as pale as her frock.
“Richard!—O, Richard!” she implored. “Don’t hit me like that. You are so strong; and I am only a girl. I had no right to say it; it might have meant nothing; and Lady Skene has always been so good to me.”
“What reason have you—or has she, for that matter—to expect any consideration from me? I will know the truth.”
“Richard, make some allowance. You had insulted me too, you know.”
“I had not.”
“You had. You asked Lord Skene to stop me from going to you.”
“I didn’t. He came and asked me himself. He told me to remember you were an heiress, and I answered that you didn’t visit me by my wish. You!”
“It was detestable. I didn’t know. Do, for pity’s sake, forgive and forget.”