“You will not quickly find another man for husband, my dear Deborah,” Hermann Marcus rumbled menacingly. “You would have been wiser to strive to please Captain Phillips.”
Stella turned and sprang, buried her claws in his words. “Husband!—do you suppose she wants a husband? She’s had what she wants. Look at her!”
This, then, was what had lain in waiting all these years between herself and Deb—what extreme of love or hatred. That Deb should have her good time—that was well enough; Stella did not grudge it her; Stella helped her to it. But that Deb should stand there, in triumphant insolent knowledge of—the thing itself—the older woman could not bear that. Her starved senses yapped their rage and envy. Into Deb’s very poise as she remained silent and aloof in the middle of the room, Stella thought to read pity of her, the virgin, virgin by fate and by tyranny, by cowardice even, not by desire.... Deb, little Deb the child, Ferdie’s baby daughter, had trodden strange ground, and by reason of this she was altered, baffling, mysterious, immune from scolding, forbearing to taunt because she could afford forbearance—what did she want with Aunt Stella’s partisanship? she had taken what Aunt Stella had not dared to take....
“Look at her!”
“Is there any reason,” grandfather demanded impatiently, “why I should sacrifice my tea to look at an extremely badly-brought-up, dishonourable and wicked young lady who ought to have been married and out of the way long ago if she had owned a father who could properly attend to her interests. You cannot reproach me, lieber Ferdinand, that I have not warned you, over and over again, what would be the result of your loose and wicked lack of discipline——”
“Well, you didn’t do so very much better with your daughter, did you?” cried Deb, resenting the attack on her father’s easy kindness, but forgetting that her defence of him involved a slur on Stella.
“I’ve kept my good name at least, thank you, Deb; you’ve disgraced yourself and us, running to lick the hand of any man who chose to call. I hope your father will put a stop to it for the future, anyhow.”
“He?” Hermann Marcus laughed, and Ferdinand, performing the proverbial action of shutting the stable door, went further and slammed it with all his force.
“You will attend to me, Deb, yes? I have made a mistake in trusting you. I let you do as you please, go where you please, without asking questions, without interfering. I hoped so to make you happy. For the future all that will be changed. You will not go out in the evenings, nor to stay with your friends. You will account for your time spent to me or to your Aunt Stella. I will see to it that you take lessons in something, to occupy you usefully. Less pocket-money and no latchkey—perhaps so we can bring you back to a sense of self-respect. Also I will ask to examine your correspondence. Be sure that it is not with pleasure that I give these orders——” He halted, hearing a poignantly mocking echo of his old prophecy to Dorothea: “It will be all right—When one is happy, one is also good——”