“Katharine, dear, don’t accuse me of such things! All I said was—” She stopped short.
“Then you did say something? Of course. I knew that was the truth of it!”
“I said nothing,” answered Mrs. Lauderdale, going back to a total denial. “Except, perhaps, we have given him to understand that we should be glad if you would marry him.”
“We? Has papa been talking to him, too?” asked Katharine, indignantly.
“Don’t be so angry, child. It’s quite natural. You don’t know how glad your father would be. It’s just the sort of match he’s always dreamed of for you. And then I think it was very honourable in young Wingfield, when he found that he was in love with you, to speak to your father first.”
“Scrupulously! He might be French! He might have tried to find out first whether I cared for him at all. But I’ve no doubt you told him that he had only to ask and I should take him to my heart with pride and pleasure! Oh, mother, mother! You never used to act like this!”
“But, my dear child—”
“Oh no,—don’t call me your dear child like that—it doesn’t mean anything now. You’re completely changed—no, don’t keep me! That poor fellow’s waiting all this time. You can’t have anything more to say to me, for I know it all. A word more—which you may have said to him, or a word less—what does it matter? You’ve turned on me, and now you’re doing your best to marry me, just to get rid of me. As for papa, he leaves me no peace about poor uncle Robert’s will. And he calls himself an honest man, when he’s trying to force a confidence that doesn’t belong to him, out of—yes—out of sheer love of money. Oh, it’s not to be believed! Let me go, mother! I won’t keep that man waiting any longer. It isn’t decent. There’ll be one lie less, at all events!”
“Katharine, dear! Stay a minute! Don’t go when you’re angry—like this!”
But Katharine’s firm hand was opening the door in spite of her mother’s gentle, almost timid, resistance.