Under the lash of the words Rose grew white again. Her hands clenched; but, before she could answer, Miss Treville continued:
"It really seems to me that you ought to thank me for stepping aside so obligingly."
The occupation of a high level in the civilized world, or in society, is no proof of the Christian virtue of self-control,—that has been demonstrated, in the case of a nation, all too clearly these last years; and individuals are like nations, or vice versa. The feline that lies dormant, as often in the finished product of city convention as in the breast of the primeval woman, was now thrusting out its claws from the soft paws of breeding. And Miss Marion Treville, leader of Back Bay society, was rather enjoying the sensation. She had passed not a few uncomfortable hours in company with her conscience, even while she was yielding to the glamorous flame which surrounded her new suitor. It was a real relief for her to be able to "take it out" on some one else, and a victim had offered herself for the sacrifice, most opportunely.
Rose shrank back as though she had been struck; then steadied herself and said with an effort—for her throat and lips were dry, "I think that perhaps you were right when you called me a 'little savage.' I know that I feel like one in my heart now, and I think, too, that it would be a real pleasure for me to ... to ..."
The other stepped hastily back, and Rose laughed, bitterly.
"Oh, please don't be frightened, I'm not going to scratch you. We wood people don't fight with your kind of animal, they're too unpleasant at close range." She paused, and then went on more steadily. "I came here ... I didn't know just why I was coming,—perhaps to plead with you for Donald's sake. That doesn't look much as though I loved him ... in the way you insinuate, does it? No, if I had, I should have won him away from you, long ago. It would not have been difficult, I think."
She spoke so coolly, and with such perfect confidence, that the other winced.
"There isn't anything more to be said, is there?"
Was this the simple mountain girl, whose voice was now so suave and who was smiling so icily?
There was a pause, during which Miss Treville's trembling hand sought behind her and found the servants' bell cord.