They both turned upon her, furious: yet so thankful to her for standing up for him with whom both were wroth beyond words.
“Wrong!” they both cried in one breath. “Are you mad, child? Do you think he has not done wrong?”
“He has been very, very foolish,” cried Lucy, growing pale. “Yes, he is wrong; oh, yes, I know he is wrong. But if he had done something shameful, wicked, mother—people’s sons have done so—sin—crime—you could not take it more seriously, you could not say worse of him.”
“Sin!” said Sir John. “Lucy, you are a girl, you don’t understand things. A man might be sinful enough, and not cut himself off like this. It is worse, ever so much worse, both for him and us, than what girls like you call sin.”
“No, papa!” cried Lucy, with flashing eyes. “I will not hear you speak so of Arthur. He has been disobedient to you; but he is a man. God does not mean us always to be obedient like little children. And he has done nothing that is wrong. I will not hear anyone say so.”
“Wrong!” cried Lady Curtis, rising in her indignation and pain. “Do you call it right to bring misery and disgrace into a family, to break off all his old ties for a new one, to throw off father and mother, and duty and honour, for the sake of a fancy, for the sake of a pretty face? What does he know more of her than a pretty face? Love! is that what can be called love?—for the sake of his own will and self-indulgence, the unkind, selfish boy!”
And then she sat down again and cried bitterly, which was a relief to her. Sir John could not cry, but he got angry, which was a relief to him.
“Let me never hear you excuse him again,” he cried, “or you will make me fear that you are not to be trusted either. What, Lucy! you think children are not to be expected to obey their parents—you, a girl! Then, God help us, what have we to expect, your mother and I?—our only boy lost to us in a disgraceful connection, and our only girl ready to follow his example.”
“Papa!” cried Lucy, indignant, yet trembling.
“Is that the prospect before us? It is kind of you to give us warning: and to take such a moment for doing it, when we are crushed sufficiently, I should think.” Then he changed from this pathetic, sarcastic tone, and turned upon her with fierce and threatening looks. “But mind you, Lucy, I’ll shut you up, as fathers had a right to do once. I’ll keep you on bread and water—by Heaven, I will—before you disgrace yourself like Arthur, right or wrong!”