"Yes, sir and madam, you may stare; but I mean to place my guest in a position from which she can command due honor. I mean to give her my name and make her the mistress of my house," said old Aaron Rockharrt; and he leaned back in his chair and drew himself up.
Had a thunderbolt fallen among them, it could hardly have caused greater consternation.
The shock was more effective because both his hearers knew full well that old Aaron Rockharrt never used vain threats, and that he would do exactly what he said he would do. Having said that he meant to marry the unwelcome guest, he would marry her.
But what unutterable amazement fell upon the two people! Both had felt a vague dread of evil from the presence of this siren in the house; but their darkest, wildest fears had never shadowed forth this unspeakable folly. The Iron King, a man of seventy-seven, strong, firm, upright, honored, to fall into the idiocy of marrying a beautiful adventuress merely because she waited on him, ran his errands, warmed his slippers, put on his dressing gown or his overcoat, as he would come in or go out, and generally made him comfortable; but above all perhaps, because she flattered his egotism without measure. And yet the Iron King was considered sane, and was sane on all other subjects.
So thought Clarence and Cora as they gasped, glanced at the old man, gazed at each other, and then dropped their eyes in a sort of shame.
Neither spoke or could speak.
The dreadful silence was broken at last by Rose Stillwater, who burst into the room like a sunbeam into a cloud, and said with her childish eagerness:
"I have got such a lovely piece of music. I ran out just now to look for it. I was not sure I could find it; but here it is. It may be called sacred music and suitable to the day, I hope. Here is the title.
"'Glad life lives on forever.'
"Shall I play and sing for you, Mr. Rockharrt? Would you like me to do so, dear Cora? And you, Mr. Clarence?"