"There is no need for you to counsel me how a gentleman should behave,"
I answered hotly.
"I did not summon you here to counsel you," she said still more coldly, "but to inform you that this disgraceful affair is to go no further, at least beneath this roof. Mr. Newton has promised me to overlook your behavior, which is most generous on his part, and I trust you will see the wisdom of making peace with him."
"And why, may I ask, madame?"
"Because," she said, looking me in the eyes, "it is most likely that he will marry my daughter, and nothing is more vulgar than a family whose members are forever quarreling."
I clenched my hands until the nails pierced the flesh. She had hit me a hard blow, and she knew it.
"And what does Dorothy think of this arrangement?" I asked, with as great composure as I could muster.
She smiled with a calm assurance which made my heart sink. "Dorothy would be a fool not to accept him, for he is one of the most eligible gentlemen in Virginia. Indeed, perhaps she has already done so, for I gave him leave to speak to her this morning," and she smiled again as she noted my trembling hands, which I tried in vain to steady. "You seem much interested in the matter."
I turned from her without replying,—I could trust myself no further. Not that I blamed her for hating me,—for she loved her son and I was the shadow across his path,—but she was pressing me further than I had counted on. I snatched up my hat as I ran along the hall and out the great door toward the river. Spring was coming, the trees were shaking out their foliage, along the river the wild flowers were beginning to show their tiny faces, but I saw none of these as I broke my way through the brush along the water's edge,—for perhaps even now he was asking Dorothy to be his wife, and she was yielding to him. The thought maddened me,—yet why should she do otherwise? What claim had I upon her? And yet I had builded such a different future for her and me.
I had walked I know not how long when I came out suddenly upon the road which wound along the bank and finally dipped to the ferry, and here I sat down upon a log to think. If Dorothy accepted him, I could no longer stay at Riverview. I must go away to Williamsburg and seek employment in the campaign, if only as a ranger. It must soon commence, and surely they would not refuse me in the ranks. As I sat absorbed in bitter thought, I heard the sound of hoof beats up the road and saw a horseman coming. I drew back behind a tree, for I was in no mood to talk to any one, and gloomily watched him as he drew nearer. There seemed something strangely familiar about the figure, and in an instant I recognized him. It was Willoughby Newton. In another moment he had passed, his face a picture of rage and shame. He was riding away from Riverview in anger, and as I realized what that meant, I sprang forward with a great cry of joy. He must have heard me, for he turned in the saddle and shook his whip at me, and for an instant drew rein as though to stop. But he thought better of it, for he settled again in the saddle, and was soon out of sight down the road.
I had not waited so long, for settling my hat on my head, I set off up the road as fast as my legs would carry me. It seemed to me I should never reach the house, and I cursed the folly which had taken me so far away, but at last I ran up the steps and into the hall. As I entered, I caught a glimpse of a well-known gown in the hall above, and in an instant I was up the stairs.