Looking rather pleased with herself at this ultimatum she sauntered into the house and the notes of the “Battle of Prague” were soon resounding through the silent rooms. But the clanging of the knocker at the front door presently crashed them into discord. A moment later she crossed the hall into the parlor, whither Lizzie had shown Jefferson Delavan, thinking:
“What good luck there’s nobody at home but me! I wish Rhoda had refused him again first. Well, I’ll tell him she’s going to.”
A twinkle of amusement came now and then into Delavan’s eyes as he watched the airs and graces, the sidelong glances, and all the dainty feminine tricks of movement and gesture and poise with which Charlotte accompanied her conversation. It was not her physical habit ever to remain quietly seated, or even in the same position for more than a few minutes. Her restless spirits, her active body and her native vivacity of manner combined to keep her in motion almost as incessant and quite as unconscious as that of a bird flitting about in a tree. Although she did not know it this habit was one of her most charming characteristics. She had a certain dignity of carriage, like her mother’s, which made itself manifest, notwithstanding her absurdly large hoopskirt, and this, with her grace of action and of posture, made her movements always pleasing to look at, while her bird-like flights gave an elusiveness to her manner that enhanced her charm.
She saw the admiration in Delavan’s face as his eyes followed her, and tilted her skirts in a way that would have scandalized her mother, although she observed that her companion seemed not at all dismayed by the glimpses of slender foot and ankle that she made possible. That occasional twinkle of amusement she took as a tribute to her gaiety and laughed and chattered all the more.
“Has your true heart been pining, Miss Charlotte?” he presently asked in a quizzical tone, as he leaned upon the back of her chair, looking down smilingly into her pretty, upturned face.
She flushed a little, but made wide eyes at him and said, “What do you mean?”
“Oh, I was given to understand that some hearts in Hillside are in a rather bad way. Is yours true and does it pine?”
She made a graceful little gesture and turned upon him with a merry face and a look distinctly provocative: “Suppose it was, either or both, what would it matter to you?”
She looked up at him, smiling, with saucy lips and inviting eyes, and before she knew what he was doing he had slipped an arm around her waist and lifted her to her feet. She struggled to free herself, but he held her against his breast, pushed back her head and kissed her squarely upon the lips, once, twice, and thrice. With her hands against his chest she tried to push him away and struggled to turn her face from his. But she was helpless in his grasp until he released her.
“You brute!” she exclaimed, dashing the angry tears from her eyes. “How dare you!”