He misread her distress.
“Oh, very little,” he said. “Make yourself easy. I don’t want to know any more.”
She sprang forward to him, the great dog entangled in her skirts.
“Otto,” she said, pleadingly, “you’ll let by-gones be by-gones, won’t you—now?”
She was thinking of the reconciliation between the brothers for which her whole heart yearned.
She frightened him.
“Yes,” he cried. “Yes, if Gerard goes away. That is all I demand. You must ask Gerard to go away.”
“I?” She drew herself up. “No, indeed,” she said. “You are lord of the Horst. It is you who must forbid your brother the house, if you wish him to leave it.”
As he turned to go she ran after him, and laid her hand on his arm.
“Only don’t let it be for my sake, dear,” she pleaded, recalling Gerard’s initial insult, and continuous cold hostility, to herself. “Do not, I entreat you, let me be the cause of further discord between you. Gerard will forget the past, and I will ignore it. And even if do not, I am strong now, in your love, to face the future with confidence. Otto, I implore you, do not send him away for my sake.”