“Mollie,” she said, “dear, waken.”
Just that, and Mollie started up with a faint cry, dazzled by the light, and rubbing her eyes and her soft, flushed cheeks, just as she had done the night Gowan surprised her asleep in the parlor.
“Dolly,” she cried out, when she saw who was with her,—"Dolly,” in a half-frightened voice, “why did you come here?”
“I came to take you home,” answered Dolly, tremulously, but firmly. “Thank God! I am not too late! Oh, Mollie, Mollie, how could you?”
Mollie sat up among her blue and gray cushions and stared at her for a moment, as if she was not wide enough awake to realize what she meant. But the next instant she caught sight of Ralph Gowan, and that roused her fully, and she flushed scarlet.
“I don't know what you mean,” she said. “I don't know what you mean by coming here in this way. And I don't know what Mr. Gowan means by bringing you,—for I feel sure he has brought you. I am not a baby, to be followed as if I could not take care of myself. I am going to be married to Mr. Gerald Chandos to-morrow, and we are going on the Continent for our wedding tour.”
She was in a high state of rebellion. It was Gowan's presence she was resenting, not Dolly's. To tell the truth, she was rather glad to see Dolly. She had begun to feel the loneliness of her position, and it had half intimidated her. But the sight of Gowan roused her spirit. What right had he to come and interfere with her, since he did not care for her and thought she was nothing but a child? It made her feel like a child. She turned her back to him openly as she spoke to Dolly.
“I am going to be married in the morning,” she repeated; “and we are going to Brussels.”
Then, in her indignation against Mr. Gerald Chandos, Dolly fired a little herself.
“And has it never occurred to you,” she said, “that it is rather a humiliating thing this running away, as if you knew you were doing something disgraceful? May I ask what reason Mr. Gerald Chandos gives for asking you to submit to such an insult, for it is an insult?”