“Stop, Evelyn.” Mrs. Burnham held up her hand imperatively. “It is not a question of word but of judgment; you are immature, impulsive, impressionable——”
“Good gracious, Mother,” Evelyn laughed vexedly. “Any more ‘ims’ you can think of? Mr. Burnham is determined to get René into trouble, and it is plain to be seen that he has influenced you against me.”
Mrs. Burnham flushed. “You are unjust, Evelyn,” she remonstrated. “You carry your dislike of your step-father too far——”
“You mean he has carried his dislike of René too far,” retorted Evelyn, bitter resentment against Burnham getting the better of her determination to curb her anger. “He has, even to preferring false charges against René.”
“Gently, Evelyn, gently.” Mrs. Burnham rose. “Do not say things in anger which you may bitterly regret later.”
“I shall never regret one word I say in defense of René,” responded Evelyn with undaunted spirit “And when Mr. Burnham charges René killed that unknown man in our library, he lies.”
Mrs. Burnham laid a firm hand on Evelyn’s shoulder. “Hush!” she commanded. “René will have an opportunity to prove his innocence shortly. I understand——” She faltered for a second, then continued sternly: “I understand he has been arrested for the crime.”
Evelyn shrank back from her mother and covered her face with her hands. When she looked up her expression had altered.
“Either you or I will announce in to-morrow’s papers my engagement to René—which shall it be?” she asked.
“Evelyn.” Mrs. Burnham seldom used that tone in addressing her daughter and the girl looked at her dumbly. “Have you considered what such a step means in the face of my disapproval?”