She made no answer, but wished she had the power to rise and go away.
“Gloria,” he said, dropping his voice to the lowest tone—“Gloria, I told you just now that I thanked Heaven there was no blood relationship between you and me! Can you divine, my love, why I do so thank Heaven that we are of no kin?”
She trembled, but could not speak or move.
“Can you not, my child? Ah! you do! you do!” he sighed, seizing both her hands and trying to draw her towards him.
The touch gave her the power she needed.
“No! I don’t! I don’t know what you mean!” she suddenly cried, snatching her hands from his, starting up and rushing out of the room. Nor did she stop until she had gained the solitude of her own chamber, where she banged to and locked the door, and then sank half dead upon her sofa.
She really did not know, and did not want to know, what her guardian meant by his strange speech any more than by his strange manner. “She understood a horror in his words, but not his words.” She felt a sudden abhorrence of his person that sent her flying from his presence.
And now, in the seclusion of her own room, her overwrought feelings broke forth in a flood of tears.
These relieved her, and then she began to ask herself the cause of all this excessive emotion. She could discover no reasonable cause. Her guardian had been as kind, or even kinder, than usual. He had only looked at her very intently, and asked her if she knew why he thanked Heaven that there was no blood relationship between them; and he had taken her hand in his to draw her nearer to him.
Now, what was there in all this to turn her sick even to faintness? To fill her with terror and disgust? To make her fling his hands off and rush from the room?