“And I must have them,” she said languidly, “for that ball that is going to be given to the regiment before they go away. As for the dresses,” she added, with more energy, “papa, I shall fleece you—I shall rob you! I will order everything I take a fancy to—everything that is nice, everything that is dear. I shall ruin you!” she cried, clapping her hands together with a sound like a pistol-shot over his head.
Through all this the tinkling of his laugh had run on. It burst out now and had a little solo of its own, disturbed by a cough, while the girls were silent and listened. “That’s the sort of thing,” he cried. “That’s my Stella—that’s my pet! Ruin me! I can stand it. Have them as dear as they’re made. I’ll write for the diamonds to-night; and you shall go to the ball all shinin’ from head to foot, my Stella—that’s what you’ve always been since you were born—my little star!”
Then she pulled the handkerchief over his head, gave him a kiss through it, and hurried away.
“Oh, Stella, Stella!” cried Katherine under her breath. She repeated the words when they had gone into their own room. Stella, flushed and excited, had thrown herself upon the stool before the piano and began to play wildly, with jars and crashes of sound. “Oh, Stella, how dared you do such a thing? How dared you barter away your love, for he is your love, for diamonds and frocks? Oh, Stella, you are behaving very, very badly. I am not fond of Charles Somers; but surely, if you care for him at all, he is worth more than that. And how dared you—how dared you sell him—to papa?”
But Stella said never a word. She went on playing wild chords and making crashes of dreadful sound, which, to Katherine, who was more or less a musician, were beyond bearing. She seized her sister’s arm after a moment and stopped her almost violently. “Stop that, stop that, and answer me!” she cried.
“Don’t you like my music, Kate? It was all out of my own head—what you call improvising. I thought you would like me to go to the piano for comfort. So it is an ease to one’s mind—it lets the steam off,” cried Stella with a last crash, louder and more discordant than the others. Then she abandoned the piano and threw herself down in a chair.
“Wasn’t that a funny talk I had with papa? You may tell Charlie, if you like, it will amuse him so. They would all think it the most glorious. I shall tell it to everybody when I am on the——”
Here Stella stopped, and gave her sister a half-inquiring, half-malicious look, but found no response in Katherine’s grieved eyes.
“I don’t know what you mean, Stella,” she said. “If you mean what papa thinks, it is the most odious, humiliating bargain; if you mean something else, it is—but I can’t say what it is, for I don’t know what you mean. You are going to be a traitor one way or else another, either to Charlie or to papa. I don’t know which is worse, to break that man’s heart (for he is fond of you) by throwing him over at the last moment, or to steal papa’s money and break his heart too.”
“You needn’t trouble yourself so much about people’s hearts, Kate. How do you know that Charlie would have me if he thought papa wouldn’t give in? And, as for papa’s heart, he would only have to give in, and then all would be right. It isn’t such a complicated matter as you think. You are so fond of making out that things are complicated. I think them quite simple. Papa has just to make up his mind which he likes best, me or his money. He thinks he likes his money best. Well, perhaps later he will find he doesn’t, and then he has only got to change. Where’s the difficulty? As for me, you must just weave webs about me as long as you please. I am not complicated—not a bit. I shall do what I like best. I am not sure even now which I like best, but I shall know when the time comes. And in the meantime I am laying up all the best evidence to judge from. I shall send Stevens up to town for patterns to-morrow. I shall get the very richest and the very dearest things that Madame has or can get. Oh,” cried the girl, clapping her hands with true enjoyment, “what fun it will be!”