“She has no right to act with such treachery to 233 me and you, sir,” the colonel said. “I’ll not have it! Where else, sir—who?”
“Spare me the humiliation of informing you,” begged Major King, with averted face, with sorrow in his voice.
“Oh, you slanderous coward!” Frances assailed him with scorn of word and look. Colonel Landcraft was shaking a trembling finger at her, his face thrust within a foot of her own.
“I’ll not have it! you’ll not—who is the fellow, who?”
“There is nothing to conceal, there is no humiliation on my part in speaking his name, but pride—the highest pride of my heart!”
She stood back from them a little, her lofty head thrown back, her face full of color now, the strength of defense of the man she loved in her brave brown eyes.
“Some low poltroon, some sneaking civilian—”
“He is a man, father—you have granted that. His name is—”
“Stop!” thundered the colonel. “Heaven and hell! Will you disgrace me by making public confession of your shame? Leave this room, before you drive me to send you from it with a curse!”
In her room Frances heard the horses come to the door to carry her father away. She had sat there, trembling and hot, sorry for his foolish rage, hurt by his narrow injustice. Yet she had no bitterness in her heart against him, for she believed that she 234 knew him best. When his passion had fallen he would come to her, lofty still, but ashamed, and they would put it behind them, as they had put other differences in the past.