As if she had never suspected that such was the result of her scheming, Mrs Oldcastle’s demeanour changed utterly. The form of her visage was altered. She made a spring at her daughter, and seized her by the arm.
“Then I forbid it,” she screamed; “and I WILL be obeyed. I stand on my rights. Go to your room, you minx.”
“There is no law human or divine to prevent her from marrying whom she will. How old are you, Ethelwyn?”
I thought it better to seem even cooler than I was.
“Twenty-seven,” answered Miss Oldcastle.
“Is it possible you can be so foolish, Mrs Oldcastle, as to think you have the slightest hold on your daughter’s freedom? Let her arm go.”
But she kept her grasp.
“You hurt me, mother,” said Miss Oldcastle.
“Hurt you? you smooth-faced hypocrite! I will hurt you then!”
But I took Mrs Oldcastle’s arm in my hand, and she let go her hold.