“You beautiful siren,” he said. “You are coaxing me. How you know how to use your charms and your powers; and what man could resist your tempting face!”
I rose in passionate scorn.
“How dare you say such things to me!” I said. “I would not stoop to coax you—I will not again ask you for any boon! I only wanted you to do me the justice of realizing you had made a mistake in my character—to do your brother the justice of conceding the point that he has some right to love whom he chooses. But keep your low thoughts to yourself! Evil, cruel man! Robert and I have got something that is better than all your lands and money—a dear, great love, and I am glad; glad that he will not in the future receive anything that is in your gift. I shall give him the gift of myself, and we shall do very well without you,” and I walked to the door, leaving him huddled in the chair.
Thus ended our talk on justice!
Never has my head been so up in the air. I am sure had Cleopatra been dragged to Rome in Augustus’s triumph she would not have walked with more pride and contempt than I through the hall of Vavasour House.
The old servant was waiting for me, and Véronique, and the brougham.
“Call a hansom, if you please,” I said, and stood there like a statue while one of the footmen had to run into St. James’s Street for it.
Then we drove away, and I felt my teeth chatter, while my cheeks burnt. Oh! what an end to my scheme, and my dreams of perhaps success!
But what a beast of a man! What a cruel, warped, miserable creature. I will not let him separate me from Robert, never, never! He is not worth it. I will wait for him—my darling—and, if he really loves me, some day we can be happy, and if he does not—but oh! I need not fear.