“Have you quite finished—now?” she demanded. “Steve, be quiet!”
“Why, yes, I guess so, pretty nigh. I s’pose there ain’t much use to say more. If I was to tell you that I’ve tried to do for you and Steve in this—same as in everything else since I took this job—as if you were my own children, you wouldn’t believe it. If I was to tell you, Caroline, that I’d come to think an awful lot of you, you wouldn’t believe that, either. I did hope that since our other misunderstandin’ was cleared up, and you found I wa’n’t what you thought I was, you’d come to me and ask questions afore passin’ judgment; but perhaps—”
And now she interrupted, bursting out at him in a blast of scorn which took his breath away.
“Oh, stop! stop!” she cried. “Don’t say any more. You have insulted father’s memory, and defended the man who slandered him. Isn’t that enough? Why must you go on to prove yourself a greater hypocrite? We learned, my brother and I, to-day more than the truth concerning your friend. We learned that you have lied—yes, lied—and—”
“Steady, Caroline! be careful. I wouldn’t say what I might be sorry for later.”
“Sorry! Captain Warren, you spoke of my misjudging you. I thought I had, and I was sorry. To-day I learned that your attitude in that affair was a lie like the rest. You did not pay for Mr. Moriarty’s accident. Mr. Dunn’s money paid those bills. And you allowed the family—and me—to thank you for your generosity. Oh, I’m ashamed to be near you!”
“There! There! Caroline, be still. I—”
“I shall not be still. I have been still altogether too long. You are our guardian. We can’t help that, I suppose. Father asked you to be that, for some reason; but did he ask you to live here where you are not wanted? To shame us before our friends, ladies and gentlemen so far above you in every way? And to try to poison our minds against them and sneer at them when they are kind to us and even try to be kind to you? No, he did not! Oh, I’m sick of it all! your deceit and your hypocritical speeches and your pretended love for us. Love! Oh, if I could say something that would make you understand how thoroughly we despise you, and how your presence, ever since you forced it upon Steve and me, has disgraced us! If I only could! I—I—”
She had been near to tears ever since Mrs. Corcoran Dunn, in the kindness of her heart, told her the “truth” that afternoon. But pride and indignation had prevented her giving way. Now, however, she broke down.
“Oh—oh, Steve!” she cried, and, turning to her brother, sobbed hysterically on his shoulder. “Oh, Steve, what shall we do?”