Dan defended himself, and a lively discussion ensued, in which Clara illustrated her position by an allusion to his old habit of holding her hands and laughing at her helpless rage. “If you had known the nature of girls you would never have done such a thing,” she said, “for it made me hate you, and to this day I cannot think of it without indignation, though we should not remember wrongs done us by children.”
“You were pert and saucy,” said Dan, “and put on airs of superiority, because you got your lessons and were petted by the teachers.”
“And you wished to show your superiority in something, I suppose. Well, we will not think of disagreeable things. You are my only brother, and are going to be just and kind to Susie, so we shall never quarrel any more;” and Clara, putting down all hard feelings caused by Dan’s betrayal and desertion of Susie, passed her hand affectionately through his arm, and then submitted to being hugged, though she could not forbear a little resentment at his roughness. “No woman of refinement will ever love such a bear,” she said.
“Nonsense! women like to be handled roughly.”
“That shows how much you know about it—about refined women, at least. Do you think Miss Marston—”
“D—n Miss Marston!”
“I am ashamed of you.”
“Of course: you always were. Your big snob, Delano, would not say ‘mill-dam,’ I suppose. You’ll get enough of him, or I’m greatly mistaken. He is one of the kind that understands women, no doubt.”
Clara was very angry, but for Susie’s sake and the object she had set her heart upon, she controlled the expression of it. She had succeeded in making Dan promise to call on Susie that very evening, and both she and Mrs. Buzzell had urged Susie to marry Dan if he proposed it, and he had already assented. Clara went over to Mrs. Buzzell’s with Dan, and, leaving him in the parlor, sent Susie to him, kissing her, and saying, “You know it is not wholly for your own sake, dear, or we would not have urged it.”
As Susie entered, he rose and took her hand. She gave his the faintest little pressure, and left him no time for preliminaries, but said at once, “You know the one cause that has made me yield, against my better judgment, to the desire of your sister and my good friend, Mrs. Buzzell. Understand well, I do so on this condition, which I imagine,” she added, a little bitterly, “you will have no objection to—that you never recognize me as your wife in any way. I, on my part, shall never claim any legal rights any more than if you were actually dead.”