"To see service."
"Good God! Mother, are you all mad? What will you do without her? How can you suffer her to go?"
"I cannot prevent it, Gilbert. It is your father's doing. Ask him."
Gilbert turned wrathfully, and faced the old man. They glared upon each other like two angry wild beasts.
"So, this is your doing, sir. You thrust an unprotected young girl out of your house, because she happens to be dear to me! Now, mark my words, for I mean to abide by what I say. If Dorothy is driven from her home on my account, I leave it also—leave it, never to return while you live. Don't cry, mother. Don't shake your head, Dorothy. I am in earnest—so help me God!"
"What do you say to that, Lawrence?" cried Mrs. Rushmere. "Do end this disgraceful scene and listen to reason."
"I say," and Rushmere spoke in a voice of thunder, "that he is an undutiful son, a disgrace to his family; that he may go as soon as he likes; the sooner the better; that I never wish to set my eyes upon him again. That's what I say, dame!"
He shook his fist in Gilbert's face, and his brow grew dark with violent passion.
Dorothy glided round to the back of the chair. She was afraid of his falling down in a fit. She now fronted her angry lover, and she silently pointed down to his agitated father, and made imploring gesture for him to leave the room.
Gilbert read her meaning in her terrified eyes. He was determined not to go, but to tell his father a bit more of his mind.