“I can well believe it,” said Judy contemptuously. “I have never had a great opinion of Uncle Colonel.”
“And in spite of this, Mr. Delavigne says he will allow his daughter to marry Stanton, and yet Brian sends me word that the whole thing is at an end. Who has done it? What does it mean?”
Camperdown pointed a finger at Armour’s unhappy figure.
“The family will be broken up,” exclaimed Mrs. Colonibel, sinking into a chair and putting up her hands to hide her miserable face.
“Stanton, old man, where are you?” and gropingly feeling his way into the room came Valentine, exquisitely dressed and unruffled in appearance. “I hear flying rumors, that knowing you as well as I do, I cannot believe. The happiness that you have so long deserved is now within your grasp. You are not going to ruin your chances?” and he threw his arm over his brother’s shoulder.
Armour, like a hunted animal brought to bay, looked desperately at the faces round about him. “I have a conscience,” he said brokenly; “I cannot do this thing.”
“What thing?” said Judy cuttingly. “Do you mean that you cannot give up your iron will, that you will thrust out the angel of the house? I tell you for one that I sha’n’t live here if she goes. Who is going to support us in our disgrace? Who will comfort us I would like to know? I shall never go out; I will starve myself; I will die”; and giving way to a fit of angry sullenness the girl threw herself down beside her mother.
“Joe,” said Vivienne softly, “my time has come. Help me in through this window.”
Armour had watched the door, but he had not thought of the window, and yet he did not really fancy that Vivienne would transgress his strict command that she should not seek an interview with him but should wait for a letter that he would write to her.
When he saw her coming toward him he retreated against the wall, and averted his eyes from the mingled love and compassion of her glance.