"Yes, he would like it," said Aldyth, in a low, pained tone.
"Then, my dear, how can you be so foolish? Do you not know how ready your uncle is to take offence? If you cross his will, you may lose your inheritance, as your poor father did. Stephen Lorraine has never said what were his intentions concerning you, but I always thought that he meant you should share Guy's fortune. Oh, dear! I would not have had you act so foolishly for the world; but perhaps it is not yet too late to set things right."
"You do not understand me, mamma," said Aldyth. "I am sorry to displease you, but I can never, never marry Guy. It would be most wrong of me to do so, feeling as I do."
"Then there is some one else you care for," said Mrs. Stanton, sharply.
Aldyth flushed. "You are mistaken," she said, coldly, "there is no one else; but I cannot see that makes any difference."
"Well, of all foolish, unpractical girls, you are the worst I could ever imagine!" said Mrs. Stanton, indignantly. "Why, most girls would jump at such an offer."
But Aldyth had risen, and was hurrying from the room. She ran up stairs with hot tears in her eyes, and a choking sensation in her throat. She was indignant with her mother for uttering such words.
It was a sore wound to find that the mother whom unknown she had loved devotedly all her life was capable of giving her such low, worldly counsel. It was no longer possible to hide from herself the keen disappointment she was suffering. The truth was not to be disguised.
Her mother, beautiful, charming, gracious as she appeared, was not the mother of whom she had dreamed through long years. The hopes she had built on her home-coming were all delusive. The perfect sympathy, the mutual confidence and help to which she had looked forward, were not to be. As she recognized this fact, certain words of Christina Rossetti's kept repeating themselves in Aldyth's mind—
"The hope I dreamed of was a dream,
Was but a dream; and now I wake
Exceeding comfortless, and worn, and old,
For a dream's sake."