“Stay now, if you will, madam,” returned the schoolmaster, with a bow of oldest-fashioned courtesy. “This lady has done laying her commands upon me, I believe.”
“As you think proper to call them commands, Mr Graham, I conclude you intend to obey them,” said Mrs Marshal, with a forced smile and an attempt at pleasantry.
“Not for the world, madam,” he answered. “Your son is acting the part of a gentleman—yes, I make bold to say, of one who is very nigh the kingdom of heaven, if not indeed within its gate, and before I would check him I would be burnt at the stake—even were your displeasure the fire, madam,” he added, with a kindly bow. “Your son is a line fellow.”
“He would be, if he were left to himself. Good evening, Mr Graham. Good-bye, rather, for I think we are not likely to meet again.”
“In heaven, I hope, madam; for by that time we shall be able to understand each other,” said the schoolmaster, still kindly.
Mrs Marshal made no answer beyond a facial flash as she turned to Clementina.
“Good evening, ma’am,” she said. “To pay court to the earthen vessel because of the treasure it may happen to hold, is to be a respecter of persons as bad as any.”
An answering flash broke from Clementina’s blue orbs, but her speech was more than calm as she returned,
“I learned something of that lesson last Sunday evening, I hope, ma’am. But you have left me far behind, for you seem to have learned disrespect even to the worthiest of persons. Good evening, ma’am.”
She looked the angry matron full in the face, with an icy regard, from which, as from the Gorgon eye, she fled.