"You are honest; if you were equally so with my father, I do not wonder it occurred to his great heart to do as he has done."
The hot blood flew to Clover's cheeks. "You are wrong to insult me," she said, controlling herself with heroic effort, for her hurt youth longed to seek relief in flight instead of waiting to parley. "You will soon know that Mr. Van Tassel loves me; and—and"—suddenly turning suppliant, "when he told me so, and represented all that he could do for me if I would consent to marry him, why should I have refused? I did not know it would make you so angry, Jack, and," with eager explanation, "I do not care for anybody."
Her companion gave a short laugh. "A nice lookout for my father," he said curtly.
"You will not understand—you will not approve!" she said passionately, in a low voice that began to tremble. They were nearing her home now. "It is hard for you; perhaps it is wrong to you. So far as my own happiness goes, I could give it all up for your sake, for your rights are to be considered. Ah, there is mother in the window. She sees you, Jack!"
The white head behind the window-pane inclined, and Van Tassel mechanically lifted his hat.
"Do you see the peaceful look in her face?" went on the girl's unsteady voice. "She has only looked like that since yesterday. No," with new strength, and no supplication in her manner as she unconsciously drew herself up, "I will not waver. Say what you please to me. Think what you will of me; I can have but one thought, I must have but one, and that is—mother!"
Van Tassel lifted his hat once more, as to a stranger.
"Not one friendly word?" she asked desperately, her breath coming fast.
"What do you want?" asked the other. "That I should wish you prosperity?"
"You surely do not wish me ill, Jack?"