There was an ominous sparkle in Grace’s gray eyes, and then she deliberately put down her work on the table. She had hoped that her mother would have been contented with her victory, and not have spoken to her on the subject. But if she were so attacked, she would at least defend herself.
“You have no right to speak to me in this way, mother!”
“No right, Grace?” Mrs. Drummond could hardly believe her ears. Never once had a daughter of hers questioned her right in anything.
“No; for I have said nothing to bring all this upon me! I have been perfectly quiet, and have tried to bear the bitterness of my disappointment as well as I could. No one is answerable for their looks, and I, at least, will not plead guilty on that score.”
“Grace, you are answering me very improperly.”
“I cannot say that I think so, mother. I would have been silent, if you had permitted such silence; but when you drive me to speech, I must say what I feel to be the truth,—that I have not been well treated in this matter.”
“Grace!” And Mrs. Drummond paused in awful silence. Never before had a recusant daughter braved her to her face.
“I have not been well treated,” continued Grace, firmly, “in a thing that concerns me more than any one else. I have not even been consulted. You have arranged it all, mother, without reference to me or my feelings. Perhaps I ought to be grateful for being spared so painful a decision; but I think such a decision should have been permitted to me.”
“You can dare to tell me such things to my very face!”
“Why should I not tell them?” returned Grace, meeting her mother’s angry glance unflinchingly. “It seems to me that one should speak the truth to one’s mother. You have treated me like a child; and I have a right to feel sore and indignant. Why did you not put the whole thing before me, and tell me that you and my father did not see how you could spare me? 106 Do you really believe that I should have been so wanting to my sense of duty as to follow my own pleasure?”