“Oh, my dear, don’t appeal to me!” said her mother with a sob. “Great folks aren’t like other folks; and your father must know best.”
“How dare you turn to your fool of a mother!” he yelled. “Is it she whose dollars have dressed you fine, and cockered you up amongst blood-fillies all these years?”
“I regret that I have cost you so much. But if you will allow me, I will relieve you of my presence and maintain myself,” she said, with a tranquillity which made her father’s rage choke him as though he were on the point of apoplexy.
“Did I bring you up amongst duchesses’ daughters that you might disgrace me?” he cried, with a foul oath.
From his point of view it was hard on him, unjust, a very abomination of Providence. There were four hundred young women in London, four thousand in Great Britain, who would have asked nothing better than to be beautifully dressed, to have abundance of pocket-money, to ride thoroughbred hacks in the Park, to pay court to great people, and to make themselves agreeable and popular in society. There was not, indeed, one young woman in ten millions who would have quarrelled with such a fate; and that extraordinary and solitary exception was his daughter. It was not wonderful, it was scarcely even blamable, that William Massarene was beside himself with chagrin and rage.
A thousand other men had daughters who asked nothing better than to be allowed to spend money, and be made love to by princes, and wear smart frocks, and push themselves into smart society; and he had this rara avis, this abnormal, unnatural, incredible phenomenon to whom all these things, which were the very salt of life to other women, were only as dust and ashes!
What punishment could he give her? What other threats could he make her? It was useless to threaten with being turned out of doors a person who asked nothing better than to be set free to work for her livelihood. If he had hinted at such a punishment, she would have taken him at his word, would have put on her simplest gown, and would have gone to the nearest railway-station.
He thundered at her; he hurled at her blasphemous words, which had used to make the blood of miners and navvies turn cold when the “bull-dozing boss” used such to them; he swore by all heavenly and infernal powers that he would drag her on her knees to the offended gentleman. But he made no impression whatever on her. She ceased to reply. But she gave no sign of any emotion, either timorous or repentant; she was altogether unmoved. Say what he would he could not intimidate her, and the force of his fury spent itself in time, beaten by passive resistance.
The upshot of the stormy scene was, that he exiled her from his world by allowing her to accept an invitation to pass a year in India with some school friends, who were daughters of a nobleman who had recently accepted the governorship of one of the presidencies in India.
The decision cost her mother many tears, but it was the mildest ultimatum to which William Massarene could be brought. He only saw in his daughter a person who might have secured to him the one supreme honor for which his soul pined, and who had not done so, out of some squeamish, insolent, democratic, intolerable self-assertion. In sending her to pass a year in the family of Lord Framlingham, he not only removed her from his own sight, but placed her where he not unnaturally supposed that she would be surrounded by Conservative and aristocratic influences. Framlingham, however, though it had suited his pocket to accept his appointment, was a revolutionary at heart, and railed incessantly at the existence of his own order and his own privileges. He had heard of the discomfiture of the great personage, and chuckled over it, and welcomed the heroine of that rebuff with great cordiality to his marble palace, looking through the golden stems of palm-groves on to the Indian Ocean, where he was a funny incongruous figure himself, in his checked tweed clothes, with his red English face, his shining bald head, his eye-glass screwed into his left eye, and his clean-shaven lips shut close on a big cigar.