He looked at her searchingly.
"I am going to choose for myself!" said Hester after a moment, in a low, resolute voice; "I am not going to sacrifice my life to anybody."
"You will sacrifice it if you go on flirting with this man—if you will not believe me—who am his kinsman and have no interest whatever in blackening his character—when I tell you that he is a bad man, corrupted by low living and self-indulgence, with whom no girl should trust herself. The action you have taken to-day, your deliberate defiance of us all, make it necessary that I should speak in even plainer terms to you than I have done yet; that I should warn you as strongly as I can that by allowing this man to make love to you—perhaps to propose a runaway match to you—how do I know what villainy he may have been equal to?—you are running risks of utter disaster and disgrace."
"Perhaps. That is my affair."
The girl's voice shook with excitement.
"No!—it is not your affair only. No man liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself! It is the affair of all those who love you—of your family—of your poor Aunt Alice, who cannot sleep for grieving—"
Hester raised her free hand, and angrily pushed back the masses of fair hair that were falling about her face.
"What is the good of talking about 'love,' Uncle Richard?" She spoke with a passionate impatience—"You know very well that nobody at home loves me. Why should we all be hypocrites? I have got, I tell you, to look after myself, to plan my life for myself! My mother can't help it if she doesn't love me. I don't complain; but I do think it a shame you should say she does, when you know—know—know—she doesn't! My sisters and brothers just dislike me—that's all there is in that! All my life I've known it—I've felt it. Why, when I was a baby they never played with me—they never made a pet of me—they wouldn't have me in their games. My father positively disliked me. Whenever the nurse brought me downstairs—he used to call to her to take me up again. Oh, how tired I got of the nursery!—I hated it—I hated nurse—I hated all the old toys—for I never had any new ones. Do you remember"—she turned on him—"that day when I set fire to all the clean clothes—that were airing before the fire?"
"Perfectly!" said the Rector, with an involuntary smile that relaxed the pale gravity of his face.
"I did it because I hadn't been downstairs for three nights. I might have been dead for all anybody cared. Then I was determined they should care—and I got hold of the matches. I thought the clothes would burn first—and then my starched frock would catch fire—and then—everybody would be sorry for me at last. But unfortunately I got frightened, and ran up the passage screaming—silly little fool! That might have made an end of it—once for all—"