"Now, Ellen," said Alice, when he had scarcely shut the door, "we may as well understand each other. Once for all, I wont have you correcting me in company! It's bad enough to have father watching me, without your breaking in with, 'You're mistaken, sister. It's so;' or 'it's so.'"
"But," interrupted Ellen, "I didn't suppose,—I never thought you wished to deceive him."
"I can't help what you thought; I wont submit to it!"
"But if I said nothing, I, too, should be guilty of falsehood; and I wouldn't tell what is not true. I had rather cut off my right hand."
She spoke warmly, as if she meant what she said.
"Nonsense!" cried Alice, now really provoked. "What do you suppose I care for your Puritan notions. You'll find you can't carry them out in fashionable society."
"Then I'll renounce it forever; nor will it cost me one pang to do so. I am only grieved because—"
She stopped suddenly; there was a noise of something falling near the door. Springing forward, she found herself face to face with Mr. Mansfield; his cane had dropped from his hand.
Alice, after one glance into his face, made her escape through a back door.
Ellen, her cheeks burning with excitement, and her kindling eyes bearing marks of the indignation her sister's unkind words had called forth, frankly expressed her astonishment at finding him there.