I ought to ask pardon again," said mademoiselle, with the same
glance, and the same smile. "I find I am de trop--quite in the way. Hélas! I am very unfortunate today." Mademoiselle de Barras made not the slightest movement, and it was
evident that she was resolved to prolong her stay, in sheer defiance of
Mrs. Marston's wishes. "Mademoiselle, I conclude from your silence that you have nothing very
pressing to say, and, therefore, must request that you will have the
goodness to leave me for the present," said Mrs. Marston, who felt that
the spirit of the French girl's conduct was too apparent not to have been
understood by Rhoda and the servant, and that it was of a kind, for
example sake, impossible to be submitted to, or tolerated. Mademoiselle de Barras darted a fiery and insolent glance at Mrs.
Marston, and was, doubtless, upon the point of precipitating the open
quarrel which was impending, by setting her authority at defiance; but
she checked herself, and changed her line of operations. "We are not alone madame," she said, with a heightened color, and a
slight toss of the head. "I was about to speak of Mr. Marston. I had
something, not much, I confess, to say; but before servants I shan't
speak; nor, indeed, now at all. So, madame, as you desire it, I shall no
further interrupt you. Come, Miss Rhoda, come to the music-room, if you
please, and finish your practice for today." "You forget, mademoiselle, that I wish to have my daughter with me at
present," said Mrs. Marston. "I am very sorry, madame," said the French lady, with the same heightened
color and unpleasant smile, and her finely-penciled brows just
discernibly knit, so as to give a novel and menacing expression to her
beautiful face--"I am very sorry, madame, but she must, so long as I
remain accountable for her education, complete her allotted exercises at
the appointed hours; and nothing shall, I assure you, with my consent,
interfere with these duties. Come, Miss Rhoda, precede me, if you please,
to the music-room. Come, come." "Stay where you are, Rhoda," said Mrs. Marston, firmly and gently, and
betraying no symptom of excitement, except in a slight tremor of her
voice, and a faint flush upon her cheek--"Stay where you are, my dear
child. I am your mother, and, next to your father, have the first claim
upon your obedience. Mademoiselle," she continued, addressing the
Frenchwoman, calmly but firmly, "my daughter will remain here for some
time longer, and you will have the goodness to withdraw. I insist upon
it, Mademoiselle de Barras." "I will not leave the room, I assure you, madame, without my pupil,"
retorted mademoiselle, with resolute insolence. "Your husband, madame,
has invested me with this authority, and she shall obey me. Miss Rhoda, I
say again, go down to the music-room." "Remain where you are, Rhoda," said Mrs. Marston again. "Mademoiselle;
you have long been acting as if your object were to provoke me to part
with you. I find it impossible any longer to overlook this grossly
disrespectful conduct; conduct of which I had, indeed, believed you
absolutely incapable. Willett," she continued, addressing the maid, who
was evidently bursting with rage at the scene she had just witnessed,
"your master is, I believe, in the library; go down, and tell him that I
entreat him to come here immediately." The maid started on her mission with angry alacrity, darting a venomous
glance at the handsome Frenchwoman as she passed. Mademoiselle de Barras, meanwhile, sate, listless and defiant, in her
chair, and tapping her little foot with angry excitement upon the floor. Rhoda sate close by her mother, holding her hand fast, and looking
frightened, perplexed, and as if she were on the point of weeping. Mrs.
Marston, though flushed and excited, yet maintained her dignified and
grave demeanor. And thus, in silence, did they all three await the
arrival of the arbiter to whom Mrs. Marston had so promptly appealed. A few minutes more, and Marston entered the room. Mademoiselle's
expression changed as he did so to one of dejected and sorrowful
submission; and, as Marston's eye lighted upon her, his brow darkened and
his face grew pale. "Well, well--what is it?--What is all this?" he said, glancing with a
troubled eye from one to the other. "Speak, someone. Mrs. Marston, you
sent for me; what is it?" "I want to know, Mr. Marston, from your own lips," said the lady, in
reply, "whether Rhoda is to obey me or Mademoiselle de Barras?" "Bah!--A question of women's prerogative," said Marston, with muttered
vehemence. "Of a wife's and a mother's prerogative, Richard," said Mrs. Marston,
with gentle emphasis. "A very simple question, and one I should have
thought needing no deliberation to decide it." "Well, child," sad he, turning to Rhoda, with angry irony, "pray what is
all this fuss about? You are a very ill used young lady, I dare aver. Pray what cruelties does Mademoiselle de Barras propose inflicting upon
you, that you need to appeal thus to your mother for protection?" "You quite mistake me, Richard," interposed Mrs. Marston; "Rhoda is
perfectly passive in the matter. I simply wish to learn from you, in
mademoiselle's presence, whether I or she is to command my daughter?" "Command!" said Marston, evading the direct appeal; "and pray what is all
this commanding about?--What do you want the girl to do?" "I wish her to remain here with me for a little time, and mademoiselle,
knowing this, desires her instantly to go to the music-room, and leave
me. That is all," said Mrs. Marston. "And pray, is there nothing to make her going to the music-room advisable
or necessary? Has she no music to learn, or studies to pursue? Pshaw! Mrs. Marston, what needs all this noise about nothing? Go, miss," he
added, sharply and peremptorily, addressing Rhoda, "go this moment to the
music-room." The girl glided from the room, and mademoiselle, as she followed, shot a
glance at Mrs. Marston which wounded and humbled her in the dust. "Oh! Richard, Richard, if you knew all, you would not have subjected me
to this indignity," she said; and throwing her arms about his neck, she
wept, for the first time for many a long year, upon his breast. Marston was embarrassed and agitated. He disengaged her arms from his
neck, and placed her gently in a chair. She sobbed on for some time in
silence--a silence which Marston himself did not essay to break. He
walked to the door, apparently with the intention of leaving her. He
hesitated however, and returned; took a hurried turn through the room;
hesitated again; sat down; then returned to the door, not to depart, but
to close it carefully, and walked gloomily to the window, whence he
looked forth, buried in agitating and absorbing thoughts. "Richard, to you this seems a trifling thing; but, indeed it is not so,"
said Mrs. Marston, sadly. "You are very right, Gertrude," he said, quickly, and almost with a
start; "it is very far from a trifling thing; it is very important." "You don't blame me, Richard?"