“You do not want me,” she said. “You have taken one son of mine, and now you would take the other. Is not my daughter enough?”
Beatrice instantly stepped up, and put her hand on the other’s arm.
“Dear Mistress,” she said; and her voice broke into tenderness; “she is not enough—”
Lady Torridon jerked her arm away.
“Come, Mary,” she said.
Matters were a little better after that. Sir James was not told of the incident; because his son knew very well that he would not allow Beatrice to stay another day after the insult; but Chris felt himself bound to consult those who had heard what had passed as to whether indeed it was possible for her to remain. Nicholas grew crimson with indignation and vowed it was impossible. Mary hesitated; and Chris himself was doubtful. He went at last to Beatrice that same evening; and found her alone in the oak parlour, before supper. The sportsmen had not yet come back; and the other ladies were upstairs.
Beatrice affected to treat it as nothing; and it was not till Chris threatened to tell his father, that she told him all she thought.
“I must seem a vain fool to say so;” she said, leaning back in her chair, and looking up at him, “and perhaps insolent too; yet I must say it. It is this: I believe that Lady Torridon—Ah! how can I say it?”
“Tell me,” said Chris steadily, looking away from her.