“Don’t mind if mamma is rather ... odd,” she whispered hurriedly. “You know she has a rough way of speaking, but she means well.”
He looked down, and only just suffered her slender fingers to rest on his arm.
“I would help it if I could, Lawrence,” she went on tremulously. “I do the best I can, but there are times when mamma won’t listen to me. Try not to mind what she may say ... for my sake!”
Poor Annette! She had not yet learned not to make that tender plea with her promised husband. He tried to hide that it irritated him.
“Upon my word, I begin to think that something terrible is coming,” he said, forcing a laugh. “The sooner I go and get it over, the better. Don’t be alarmed. I promise not to resent anything except personal violence. When it comes to blows, I must protect myself. But you can’t expect a man to promise not to mind when he doesn’t know what is going to happen.”
A door at the end of the hall was opened, and Mrs. Ferrier looked out impatiently.
“‘Anon, anon, sir!’” the young man cried. “Now for it, Annette. One, two, three! Let us be brave, and stand by each other. I am gone!”
Let us stand by each other! Oh! yes; for ever and ever! The light came back to the girl’s face at that. She no longer feared anything if she and Lawrence were to stand together.
Mr. Gerald walked slowly down the hall. If his languid step and careless air meant fearlessness, who can tell? He entered the library, where Mrs. Ferrier sat like a highly colored statue carved in a green chair, her hands in her lap (her paws in her lap, the young man thought savagely). She looked stolid and determined. The calm superiority which he could assume with Annette would have no effect here. Not only was Mrs. Ferrier not in love with him, which made a vast difference, but she was incapable of appreciating his real advantages over her, though, perhaps, a mistaken perception of them inspired her at times with a sort of dislike. There is nothing which a low and rude mind more surely resents and distrusts than gentle manners.