She was annoyed by the skill with which he, who was ordinarily less keen, had passed from the main subject in question to a side issue. She did not know how a great passion like avarice can sharpen wits under danger of discovery.
“Oh, well!” exclaimed Alexander, with much dignity. “If she runs away with the fellow, that puts her altogether beyond the pale of our love, and we shall have done with her. We won’t discuss that. The objection to this pretence of loving Ralston—for I’m convinced that it’s nothing else—is that it keeps her from marrying a man worthy of her, like Archibald Wingfield. Of course there are people far richer than the Wingfields—uncle Robert, for instance, besides the others who are so much richer even than he, and count their millions by the hundred; but taking him all in all, there’s not a better match in society—for looks, and education, and position, and health, too, which I regard as a very important consideration. You must agree with me, my dear—Wingfield would have made an excellent husband.”
“Of course I agree with you, Alexander. What an unnecessary question!”
“My dear, when the very foundations of one’s life are being torn up and thrown out of the window by a silly girl, it becomes necessary to ask all the simplest questions over again.”
This extraordinary simile produced no very convincing effect on Mrs. Lauderdale, who had listened to phrase after phrase of his long tirades with exemplary outward resignation, for the sake of allowing peace to be restored by the overflow of self-conscious virtue, but with little inward patience.
“I think the best thing to do is to let the whole matter drop, and hope that Katharine will change her mind,” she said, sensibly.
“Yes. Let’s hope that, at all events. Emma, we can’t have any more scenes like this. If Katharine breaks out in this way again, I shall refuse to see her. You may, if you please. But I will not. When I’m at home she shall stay in her room.”
“But that’s impossible!” exclaimed Mrs. Lauderdale, in astonishment. “You wouldn’t treat a child like that!”
“I would,” answered Alexander, and his lips snapped on the words. “And I will, if there’s any repetition of such conduct. That’s a matter for me to judge, Emma, and I don’t wish you to interfere. She has accused her own father of being a liar, of selling her, of being a miser, and of stealing his wife’s money. You can’t deny that, and I presume you’ve no intention of supporting the accusations. Yes, even as it is, I prefer that Katharine should not appear this evening. When she’s begged my pardon for what she’s done, I’ll consent to see her. Not before. Pray tell her that this is my decision, Emma.”
“But, Alexander, I never heard of such a thing! Of course she lost her temper and was awfully rude to you, and I’m very much displeased with her. But really—you can’t treat a grown woman like a baby. It’s too absurd.”