“Now that you see how serious it is, my dear,” said Ludovic, “you will let him now? I will go and see him at once. I will lose no time. Go you back to the house, and don’t say anything to Jean. Speak to Mary, if you like, but not to Jean; and don’t give yourself any more trouble about it, my dear; I will manage it all.”
But Margaret did not move; she stood very steadily, all the trembling gone away from her, the tears dried from her cheeks, and her eyes shining. These eyes were still fixed on the ground, and her head was drooping, but she showed no other signs of emotion.
“Ludovic,” she said, slowly, “it is a mistake you are making; it cannot be settled so easily. Indeed, it would be better just to let it alone,” she added, after a pause.
“Let it alone!” cried Sir Ludovic; “that is just the thing that cannot be done.”
Margaret put out her hand and touched his arm. She raised her head with a slight, proud elevation, unlike anything that had been seen in it before.
“You must not meddle with me,” she said, with a wistful look, half warning, half entreating.
“But I must meddle with you, my dear. You must not go to your ruin; you cannot be allowed to go.”
“Don’t meddle with me, Ludovic! I have never been meddled with. You need not think I will do anything wrong.”
“I must act according to my judgment, Margaret. You are too young to know what you are doing. I must save you from this adventurer. You do not even care about him. I know how a girl looks when she is in love: not as you do, Margaret, thank God for it; and that is the one thing of any importance. I must interfere.”
“I do not want to be disobedient,” she said; “but, Ludovic, you know there must be some things that are my own. You cannot judge for me always, nor Jean either. And whatever you may say about this, I will not do it; anything else! but about this I will not do it. It is very, very difficult to say so, when you are so kind; but I cannot, and do not bid me, Ludovic; oh, do not bid me, for I will not!” she said.