"And this is conjugal devotion!" the suppressed wrath boiling over,—"After cajoling a feeble old man into marrying you, you desert him upon a bed of languishing, where he is laid by your follies, to flirt with your train of gallants in the most public place in the city!"
"If you have more remarks of like import to make, I will hear them in your father's presence, Miss Read," answered the unruffled step-mother. "Miss Ida, please excuse my withdrawing before you have finished your breakfast."
Josephine had emphatically picked this quarrel. She had received no provocation, and combined with this disadvantage, that of loss of temper. Chafing with anxiety to commence the warfare she had declared, she was too eager to wait for a pretext; and had plunged into a rash conflict, before estimating the strength of the enemy's forces. Ida said nothing, until she was ready to leave the room. She deemed it her duty to speak.
"Josephine," said she, mildly, "it is not my place to dictate to you; but as a well-wisher, I warn you not to carry this further. Constant dissension will be the only result. She is inclined to live peaceably with you; and she will be a dangerous, a powerful enemy."
"Have I asked your advice?" said Josephine. Her scowl dissuaded Ida from a second remonstrance. In reckless audacity, she proceeded straight to her father's chamber. It was pitiable to see that gray-haired man—helpless as infancy with disease, and remember that his frayed thread of life was entwisted with the golden cord of hers, who had barely attained the meridian of her early womanhood.
Josephine's visits had been rare and brief, and his salutation was surly. "To what am I indebted for this superlative pleasure?" he inquired, stretching his upper lip across his teeth, as was his wont, when displeased.
"If I had supposed that my presence was conducive to your comfort, no consideration should have detained me from you sir," was the meaning rejoinder.
He did not answer, but moved uneasily, and asked his wife for water. The goblet was nearest Josephine, and she held it to him. "Lift my head!" he said, fretfully, "Ugh! you hurt me! this comes of your officiousness. Why couldn't you let her do it?"
"I regret, sir, that my unskilful touch is painful," said Josephine, "since you are to be dependent upon my cares."