The Conway spirit had come to her—it always did in a critical moment. She no longer blushed or even feared him.
“How, how,” she said slowly and looking him steadily over, “did I ever love such a thing as you?”
He moved up closer. “You will have to kiss me for that,” he said angrily. “I've kissed you so often I know just how to do it,” and he made an attempt to throw his arms around her.
She sprang away from him into the spring branch, standing knee deep in the water and among the water-cresses.
He arose hot with insolence: “Oh, you think you are too good for me now—now that the Gov'nor has set his heart on you. Damn him—you were mine before you were his. He may have you, but he will take you with Cassius' kisses on your lips.”
He sprang forward, reached over the rock and seized her by the arm. But she jerked away from him and sprang back into the deeper water of the spring. She did not scream, but it seemed that her heart would burst with shame and anger. She thought of Ophelia, and as she looked down into the water she wiped away indifferently and silently the cool drops which had splashed up into her face, and she wondered if she might not be able to drop down flat and drown herself there, and thus end it all.
He had come to the edge of the rock and stood leering drunkenly down on her.
“I love you,” he laughed ironically.
“I hate you,” she said, looking up steadily into his eyes and moving back out of his reach.
The water had wet her dress, and she stooped and dipped some of it up and bathed her hot cheeks.