"How dare you say such things to me!" I said. "I would not stoop to coax
you. I will not again ask you for any boon. I only wanted you to do me the
justice of realizing you had made a mistake in my character--to do your
brother the justice of conceding the point that he has some right to love
whom he chooses. But keep your low thoughts to yourself--evil, cruel man!
Robert and I have got something that is better than all your lands and
money--a dear, great love, and I am glad--glad he will not in the future
receive anything that is in your gift. I shall give him the gift of
myself, and we shall do very well without you;" and I walked to the door,
leaving him huddled in the chair.
Thus ended our talk on justice.
Never has my head been so up in the air. I am sure had Cleopatra been
dragged to Rome in Augustus's triumph she would not have walked with more
pride and contempt than I through the hall of Vavasour House.
The old servant was waiting for me, and Véronique, and the brougham.
"Call a hansom, if you please," I said, and stood there like a statue
while one of the footmen had to run into St. James's Street for it.
Then we drove away, and I felt my teeth chatter while my cheeks burned.
Oh, what an end to my scheme and my dreams of, perhaps, success!
But what a beast of a man! What a cruel, warped, miserable creature. I
will not let him separate me from Robert--never, never! He is not worth
it. I will wait for him--my darling--and if he really loves me, some day
we can be happy, and if he does not--but, oh, I need not fear.
I am still shaking with passion, and shall go to bed. I do not want any
dinner.