Mr. Harnden reared his crest and advanced one foot. “I have raised my daughter to be a lady and will keep her so! I'm now in a position to do it without any of her help.”
Vona stood up then. But not to fling angry retort at her father! She knew that she was able to conquer the raging self that was urging her to tell both of them what she thought of their idiotic persistency in backing the attentions of Britt. Being victor over herself in that conflict with self where so many fail, she felt courage to battle in another quarter. Since Frank had been penned up where he could not fight, she had felt that she was the champion for their mutual interests, and she was resolved to keep on valiantly. “Father, you know how I stand in the matter of Frank Vaniman.”
“I have broken your engagement with that jailbird.”
“Vona, I have told you repeatedly that I will never consent to your marrying that man,” shrilled Mrs. Harnden. “What does the Bible say about obeying your parents?”
The girl was tensely suppressing her emotions. “The outsiders merely know that I am engaged to marry him. But both of you know that I am married to him.”
Mr. Harnden sat down in order to express his emotions; Mrs. Harnden stood up. Their duet of disavowal of any such knowledge was keyed high.
“You heard me when I married him—in your presence—under this roof. The legal formality can wait. But I am married. In my heart I am married. It is enough for me until he comes back to me. And what God hath joined together let not man put asunder!” She said it reverently, with all her soul in her tones, all her woman's resolution of loyalty in her eyes.
They tried to say something, but in the face of her demeanor of firmness their opposition was futile, and they probably realized it, for they became silent and allowed her to speak on.
“If you do not choose to consider my feelings in the matter, I'll not complain. You are master and mistress of the home. I tell you now, as I have told you before, that if Tasper Britt had come out with the whole truth Frank would not be in prison. You must not expect that I will sit at table with a man who has so persecuted my—husband!” She hesitated a moment before she spoke the last word. She caressed it with loving inflection. A moment later her cheeks were burning hotly. She went out into the hall, got her sunshade, and left the house.
She still had her work at the bank; the progress of liquidation was slow. Tasper Britt, from his office window, saw her coming. She wore no hat. The parasol framed the face that was still glowing after her battle for the sanctity of her love.