"Then I suppose that you will tell that low-born, penniless Canadian doctor that you love him," said her mother bitterly. "Next thing you'll be wanting to marry him and settle down here as a missionary among those dirty Chinese."
The taunt stung again as it had stung before. The quick blood flamed into her face and passionately she flashed back:
"I have not the slightest intention of marrying Dr. Sinclair."
It was the defiant answer of maidenly pride, fired by the insinuation that she had allowed her feelings to cause her to transgress the limits of maidenly reserve. In her sudden anger she was fighting against the dictates of her own heart.
But her mother, in the determination to satisfy her pitiful ambition, did not hesitate to seize the unfair advantage and wrest her daughter's words, giving them a meaning which had not been intended:
"I am very glad to hear you say, Jessie, that you will not marry Dr. Sinclair. Your attitude towards him the last few days gave to me as well as to others, and I am quite sure to Dr. Sinclair himself, the impression that you were in love with him. I am glad to have it from your own lips that it was nothing more than a passing fancy, a harmless flirtation."
Miss MacAllister waited to hear no more. She could not contradict her mother's artful twisting of her words without confessing her love. She could not do that, for Dr. Sinclair had not confessed his, nor had he asked for hers. She was trapped. Her mother had trapped her and she could find no escape.
She fled from her mother's room, ran to her own, and in a passion of tears of anger and shame threw herself on a couch. Was what her mother had said true? Had she exposed her heart to the vulgar gaze? Did they all think that she was offering her love to Sinclair without its being sought? She would teach them. They would not say that again.
XXIV
THE BALL BEGINS