“Insult you, Constance! How can you have the face to say such a thing, when you know that your whole life is one continual act of disobedience to me! Unhappy girl that you are, you disobey your God and Creator, and are in rebellion against Him—how little a thing then must disobedience to your mother seem!”
Miss Churton's face grew red and pale by turns. “Mother,” she replied, with a ring of pain in her voice, “I have always respected your opinions and feelings, and shall continue to do so, and try my best to please you. But it is hard that I should have to suffer these unprovoked attacks; and it seems strange that the girl's coming should be made the occasion for one, for I had hoped that her presence in the house would have made my life more bearable.”
“You refer to Miss Affleck's coming,” said her mother, without stopping to reply to anything else, “and I am glad of it, for it serves to remind me that I have not yet told you my wishes with regard to your future intercourse with her.”
At this point Mr. Churton, unnoticed by his wife, stole quietly to the door, and stepping cautiously out into the hall made his escape.
“You need not trouble to explain your wishes, mother,” said Miss Churton, with flushing cheeks. “I can very well guess what they are, and I promise you at once that I shall say nothing to cause you any uneasiness, or to make any further mention of the subject necessary.”
“No, Constance, I have a sacred duty to perform, and our respective relations towards Miss Affleck must be made thoroughly clear, once for all.”
“Why should you wish to make it clear after telling me that you cannot trust me to obey your wishes, or even to speak the truth? Mother, I shall not listen to you any longer!”
“You shall listen to me!” exclaimed the other; and rising and hurrying past her daughter, she closed the door and stood before it as if to prevent escape.
Miss Churton made no reply; she walked to a chair, and sitting down dropped her hat on the floor and covered her face with her hands. How sad she looked in that attitude, how weary of the vain conflict, and how despondent! For a little while there was silence in the room, but the girl's bowed head moved with her convulsive breathing, and there was a low sound presently as of suppressed sobbing.
“Would to God the tears you are shedding came from a contrite and repentant heart,” said the mother, with a tremor in her voice. “But they are only rebellious and passing drops, and I know that your stony heart is untouched.”