“I agree with you there, sir,” replied Dora, a scornful smile wreathing her white lips, which had again grown pale as her marble cheek.
“I never knew Robert to do a mean thing in his life before. Why on earth could he not have informed us of the change in his feelings sooner? I never thought they would change when he left home.”
“But you see that he acknowledges life to be very changeable. But, if you please, we will not discuss this matter further. He spoke of a paper for me to sign, which I presume you have with you. I would like to have this matter settled at once.”
Oh, how proud and cold was that voice!
But he could not see those tiny hands, so fiercely clasped among the folds of her dress that the blood started beneath the pressure of the delicate nails.
“My dear young lady,” responded Mr. Ellerton, in deep distress, “I wish—shall we not wait awhile, until I can see my son, and obtain a more definite explanation?”
“Sir,” she retorted, pointing to the note he held in his hand, while her eyes flashed fire, and the blood mounted in an angry torrent to her pale brow, “sir, I have no desire to humiliate myself enough to await anything more definite than that.”
He regarded her with a look of admiration while he replied:
“Believe me, Miss Dupont, I suffer more than I can express, that anything so unfortunate as this should have occurred. Nay,” he entreated, as he saw the scornful curve of her lip, and knew that she was thinking of her former opposition, “I also sincerely regret the past; so sincerely that I had come to receive my boy with open arms, and allow him to follow his own inclinations, if he still chose to claim you as his bride. I beg you will believe me. All opposition has long since died out of my heart.”
Again Dora bowed coldly, and then said, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice: