Orange's passion increased at his insulting indifference.
'Captain Trecarrel,' she said, 'have you no regard for any one but yourself? You think, do you, that some day Mirelle will be yours, and with her all she has?'
'Orange,' said the Captain, coldly, 'as you pretend to know me, I may return the compliment, and admit that I know you. Now what is the meaning of this sudden sympathy with Mirelle? I know you do not love her; I have eyes in my head which have long ago convinced me that you do not even like her. This outbreak of zeal for her welfare and happiness, I am led to believe, covers—as you were pleased coarsely to remark to me—some selfish aim. And that aim I can discern without difficulty. I understand,' he added with a sneer, 'that Mirelle had constituted you treasurer and agent and plenipotentiary over all her property, landed and funded and invested, with perfect liberty to deal with it as you listed, and without any one to control your proceedings and check your accounts. And that after her experience of how the Trampleasure family deals in trust matters! O sancta simplicitas!'
Orange looked at him sullenly.
'Think so if you will, but I tell you you are mistaken.' She stepped before him, barring his road, and held out her hands. 'Captain Trecarrel, I give you one chance more. Let her go. Send her to her convent. Have pity upon both her and me.' Then her rage swelled into a paroxysm; she grasped his shoulders with her strong hands, and shook him. 'Captain Trecarrel, will you be advised, will you be ruled? Do not think in your heart that ever she will be yours, and Welltown joined to Trecarrel! That will never, never be. Let her go. You alone can save her. The carriage has halted for us at the top of the hill. Now call to the postilion to turn his horses and drive back to Plymouth.'
Captain Trecarrel released himself, with a feeling of disgust at her violence and ill-breeding.
'Let us catch up the carriage, Orange,' he said coldly: 'we have dropped far behind. You are excited, and hot, and unreasonable. If you wish to hear what directions I shall give to the driver, you must wait.'
They walked on hastily, side by side, without speaking. Orange's breath was like a flame between her lips.
The post-boy had drawn up the horses at the head of the hill. As they prepared to step into the chaise, Captain Trecarrel remarked—
'She is asleep still. Bless me, she looks as if she might sleep away into death without those looking on being conscious of the change.'