Very sweet and appealing Dorcas looked as she realized the crucial moment had arrived. Now she must take her stand for all time. Her big, dark eyes turned from one furious face to the other as the two women waited her response. Her face paled a little as she saw their attitude, their implacable wrath, their hatred of each other, and their momentarily suspended judgment of herself. Yet she stood her ground. With a pretty dignity, she spoke quietly and in a calm, steady voice:
“I heard what Miss Prall said,” she began, “I couldn’t help it, as I was so near, and all I can say is, that it is true. I am not only interested in Richard Bates, but I love him. He loves me,—and we hope—oh, mumsie,—be kind!—we hope you two will make up your quarrel for our sakes!”
“Go to your room, Dorcas,” her mother said, and in those words the girl read her doom. She knew her mother well, and she saw beyond all shadow of doubt that there was no leniency to be hoped for. She sensed in her mother’s expression as she pronounced the short sentence, an absolute and immutable decision. She might as well plead for the moon, as for her mother’s permission to be interested in Letitia Prall’s nephew.
“Wait a minute,” countermanded Miss Prall. “Answer me this, Dorcas. Are you and my nephew engaged? Has it come to that?”
“Yes,” the girl answered, thinking quickly, and deciding it best to force the issue.
“Hush!” commanded her mother; “go to your room!”
Mrs Everett fairly pushed her daughter through the door, closed it, and then said: “There is little need of further remark on this subject. We might have known it would come,—at least we might have feared it. One of us must leave this house. Will you go or shall I?”
“You take no thought of the young people’s heart-break?”
“I do not! Dorcas will get over it; I don’t care whether your nephew does or not. I can take care of my child, and that’s all that interests me.”
“You think you can,—but perhaps you do not know the depth of their attachment or the strength of their wills.”