Aline sprung to her feet and regarded her father in consternation.
His tenderness and love had given place to fierce anger and authority.
His face was pale and stern, his lips set in a rigid line, his
dark-blue eyes, so like her own, blazed ominously.
“I _command you_,” he repeated, hoarsely. “Do not continue to trifle
with me any longer, Aline. Tell me where you have been.”
“Papa, I would tell you it I could, but I cannot do so,” she answered,
gently, almost humbly, and retreating a pace from him toward her sister.
But he waved her away from Effie’s side with sharp authority.
“Stand back,” he said, “you have no right by your sister’s side until
this mystery is explained away. Now, will you tell me the truth?”
“I cannot,” she still repeated, and her lips began to quiver. She
turned a piteous, pleading gaze upon her mother’s face. It touched
a responsive chord in Mrs. Rodney’s heart. She who had always been
harshest to Aline was tenderest now.
She came forward and laid a soft, pleading hand on her husband’s arm.
“Oh, Mr. Rodney, do not tease the child,” she said. “See how white and
ill she looks! leave her alone now. She will tell us some time when she
is better--will you not, my darling?”
Aline flew to her mother’s arms and hid her face on her breast, but
she did not answer her pleading question, she only broke into low,
hysterical sobs. She was frightened at her father’s anger, her heart
and brain were in a whirl. How different was this homecoming from what
she had expected! The dear father who had always loved her best, who
had always defended her girlish escapades, had turned against her now.
She did not understand that in the very fact of the idolizing love he
had borne her lay the secret of her father’s anger. Because he had
loved her the best of all he felt her defection the worst of all. To
him she had always been loving and obedient. He could not understand
her strange disobedience now. It filled him with mingled fear and
anger. He was wounded in his love and his pride.
He looked coldly at his wife as she stood with her daughter clasped in
her maternal arms mingling her tears with those that flowed from the
girl’s blue eyes.
“Mrs. Rodney, I hope you will not interfere in this matter,” he said,
with distinct coldness. “I alone must deal with Aline now; I alone
dictate her punishment.”
“Punishment! I thought there was to be no more talk of that. We have
punished the child too much already!” cried the remorseful mother.
“God bless you, mamma!” whispered the girl, gratefully.
“Be silent. I will have no interference in my management of Aline,” he
repeated, angrily.
They all looked at him in wonder. No one had ever seen Mr. Rodney
really angry before. His favorite daughter quailed before the white
heat of wrath that distorted his proud, handsome face. He advanced
and drew her deliberately from Mrs. Rodney’s arms and placed her in
a chair. At his authoritative manner Aline’s fair face flushed, and
something of his own high spirit flashed into her eyes.
“Papa, you have no right to treat me thus!” she cried. “Why do you
humiliate me before this stranger?” and she glanced at Dr. Anthony, who
was regarding her with gravely sympathetic eyes.
“I have already told you that Dr. Anthony is not to be regarded as a
stranger--” began Mr. Rodney. But the doctor himself interrupted him by
stepping forward and addressing him.
“She is right,” he said. “Although Miss Aline has not a better friend
on earth than myself, we are actually strangers to each other. I should
have remembered the fact before, but that my deep sympathy and interest
in her caused me to forget. I crave her pardon for my seeming rudeness,
and I will now take my leave.”
He bowed himself out, and left the beautiful culprit alone with her
family. They stood around her silently--the weeping mother, the
compassionate sister and brother, the father, who had made himself her
judge, who was repressing every instinct of tenderness in his anger at
what he deemed a girl’s waywardness.
“Aline, you think me harsh and cold,” he said. “God knows no man ever
had a harder task than mine. I do not think you understand what will
follow upon this rash act of folly and this culpable silence of yours.
Shall I tell you?”
“If you please, papa,” answered Aline.