The little push was a very great one, I think.
It consisted in directing the clergyman to call in church the banns of marriage between Reginald Falcon and Rosa Staines.
They were both in church together when this was done. Rosa all but screamed, and then turned red as fire and white as a ghost, by turns. She never stood up again all the service; and in going home refused Falcon's arm, and walked swiftly home by herself. Not that she had the slightest intention of passing this monstrous thing by in silence. On the contrary, her wrath was boiling over, and so hot that she knew she should make a scene in the street if she said a word there.
Once inside the house she turned on Falcon, with a white cheek and a flashing eye, and said, “Follow me, sir, if you please.” She led the way to her father's study. “Papa,” said she, “I throw myself on your protection. Mr. Falcon has affronted me.”
“Oh, Rosa!” cried Falcon, affecting utter dismay.
“Publicly—publicly: he has had the banns of marriage cried in the church, without my permission.”
“Don't raise your voice so loud, child. All the house will hear you.”
“I choose all the house to hear me. I will not endure it. I will never marry you now—never!”
“Rosa, my child,” said Lusignan, “you need not scold poor Falcon, for I am the culprit. It was I who ordered the banns to be cried.”
“Oh! papa, you had no right to do such a thing as that.”