“Dearest Margaret, do you know you are almost rude to Mr. Glen?” her sister said, before dinner; “and such a pleasant young man, and so clever and so agreeable. I am sure dear Jean will think him quite an acquisition.”
“I hate him!” cried Margaret, with the fervor of despair. When she heard the words which she had uttered in her impatience, a chill of horror came over her. Was it true that she hated him, to whom she was bound by her promise, who loved her and expected her to love him? She went away to the other end of the room, pretending to look for something, and shed a few hot and bitter tears. It was horrible, but in the passion of the moment it seemed true. What was she to do to deliver herself?
“I don’t want to see him,” she said, coming back, “and Jean would not like to have him here: I know she would not like to have him here.”
“You will forgive me, darling Margaret,” said Miss Leslie, “but I think I know what dear Jean would like: she would not neglect a stranger. She is always very kind to strangers. How do you do again, Mr. Glen?”
And the evening that followed was dreadful to Margaret. Grace, who liked to study what her companions would like, made a great many little efforts to bring these two together. “They will like to have a little talk,” she said, running up-stairs to consult Miss Parker about something imaginary. “They are old friends, and they will like to have a little talk.”
Margaret, thus left alone with Rob, grew desperate. She turned to him with a pale face and flashing eyes, taking the initiative for the first time.
“Oh, why did you come?” she cried; “do you think it is like a man to drive a poor girl wild—when I told you that I wanted you to go away? that it was all a mistake—all a mistake!”
“It was no mistake so far as I am concerned,” he said. “Margaret, you have given me your hand and your promise; how can you be so cruel as to deny me your heart now?”
“I did not give you anything; I was distracted. I did not know what you were saying,” she said; “I did not give you anything. Whatever there was, you took. It was not I—it was not I!”
“Margaret, my darling!” he said, coming close to her, “you cannot mean to be so unkind. Do not let us spend all these precious moments in quarrelling. Will you let me tell her when she comes back?”