"I want you to read that, my dear," he said blandly. "To my mind, it is an admirable letter and the sentiments in it are beyond question; in fact, I may admit that I was quite touched by it. The fellow is evidently a gentleman at heart. I want you to read the letter carefully and send a reply on behalf of both of us."
Dashwood spoke glibly enough, but he was obviously ill at ease. He seemed to have lost all his dignity, his haggard face looked almost mean as he glanced furtively at Mary as she read the letter through, very slowly. Her face grew hard and bitter, though something like a contemptuous smile flickered over her lips.
"This is generosity indeed," she said. "So the beggars are to be offered a home, with board and lodging and perhaps wages. I am to be mistress of the house where for two years I have had my own way, in a house where you have been master. We are to humble our pride and take the place of the housekeeper and steward, to be polite to a man whom, from the bottom of my heart, I loathe and despise. Oh, the situation would be farcical but for the note of bitter tragedy in it. So you want me to answer this letter. So far as I am concerned I answer thus."
With fierce energy Mary tore the letter across and then across again, and flung the fragments amongst the flowers on the great hearthstone.
"My dear," Dashwood protested, "really, Mary. Have you considered what you are going to do, that you are practically penniless?"
"There is always a home for Mary and her father here," Lady Dashwood murmured.
"That--that is very good of you," Dashwood stammered, "but I could not think of putting you to so much inconvenience. Mary may do what she pleases, but for my part I am going to accept the offer so kindly made by the new--er--head of the family. I presume that Mary means to stay here for the present, at any rate, and----"
"No," Mary cried. She had risen to her feet, and was glaring from one to the other of the little group with eyes filled with resolution. She was very pale, her lips were trembling, but she contrived to keep her voice steady. "No, I will not remain here, I will not stay anywhere to eat the bread of charity. Dear Lady Dashwood, you will forgive me if I seem to be harsh or ungrateful after all your loving kindness to me. But I have been troubled and humiliated enough, and I could not stand any more of it. My father can do as he chooses: if he likes to humble himself in this way it is no business of mine. But I am going away to London; everything has been arranged. The telegram I had just now confirms it. And I have got my belongings together. My plans are made, and it only remains for me to say goodbye."
Lady Dashwood rose hastily to her feet. She felt vaguely alarmed and agitated, now that matters had come to this pass. She gripped Mary by the hand.
"Going," she faltered, "going, and when and where? Oh, do nothing hastily."