She was serene as if she had said nothing, though she rose up, and stood at one side of the fireplace, opposite him; between them was a print of General Jackson riding over the British.
In that moment Allan McLane felt that the girl was cheap at her grandmother's figure.
He had always conceived her a flexible, peculiar child; in a few minutes she had grown years, and become a rare and nearly stately woman, not now to be moulded, but to be tempted with large, worldly propositions.
"May I ask who this lover is that I am so much beneath, Hulda—I, who have taught you the accomplishments you chastise me with? I found you sand; I made you crystal."
He drew out a large pongee handkerchief, and really dropped some tears into it. She continued, cool and unmoved:
"My love is Levin Dennis, from Princess Anne. I am not afraid to tell it."
"Why?"
"Because I want his danger and mine to be fully known to him, and make him a man."
The Colonel folded his pongee, and came again to Hulda's side.
"That dissipated boy! Oh, Hulda, where is your real pride? He has abandoned his mother. He is a poor gypsy. No, I must save you from such a mistake. It is my duty to do it."