“Cloak it in any language,” Anne’s gesture of despair was eloquent. “Oh, mother, I cannot marry him.”
“Cease this folly, Anne, and pull yourself together,” Mrs. Meredith’s voice was low and earnest. “I have been to your uncle this evening, and he has agreed that this marriage with David Curtis is to be a marriage of convenience only; and yet, ungrateful girl that you are, you forget all that I have dared for your sake.”
Anne recoiled. “For me?” she said bitterly. “Oh, no. You love luxury, wealth, power, and by sacrificing me you can attain your desires. You wish to force me to marry this blind man—to make a mockery of the marriage vows by assuring me that the ceremony is all that is required of me. Do you think God smiles on such vows?”
Her mother stepped to her side and seized the girl’s hand. It was marvelous how her long, slender fingers could compress the tender flesh. Anne uttered a cry of pain, then threw back her head and met her mother’s furious glance with an amount of resolution which amazed her.
“I am more than six years old,” she said quietly. “And I am subservient to your will only because you are my mother and I am not yet of age. If I must do this abominable thing, let it be done immediately.”
Mrs. Meredith dropped her hand. The passion died out of her face and the smooth, handsome mask covered it as before.
“I am glad that you have recovered your senses,” she said in a calmer voice. “Your uncle has retired for the night, not feeling well, but Sam Hollister is waiting in the library to learn your decision.”
Anne shrank back. “Sam knows—” she gasped.
“Certainly; he has been your uncle’s confidential lawyer for many years,” replied Mrs. Meredith. “Sam was present this evening when your uncle disclosed his wishes to me regarding your marriage.”
“And why was I not present also?” demanded Anne, stepping forward as her mother walked toward the hall door.