ook me:

"How _dare_ you, miss, how dare you?" she cried, her face was flaming.

"How dare I what?" asked I, as I hugged her.

"How dare you be walking about when it is dead you are, and give us
all such a fright--there--there, you know what I mean.--Adrian," she
whimpered, "give me your arm, my nephew, and conduct me into your
house. All this has upset me very much. But, oh, am I not glad to see
you both, my children!"

In they went together. And my courage having risen again to its usual
height, I waited purposely on the porch to tease Rupert a little. I
had a real pleasure in noticing how he trembled with agitation beneath
his mask.

"Well, are you glad to see me, Cousin Rupert?" said I.

He took my hand; his fingers were damp and cold.

"Can you ask, my fair cousin?" he sneered. "Do you not see me overcome
with joy? Am I not indeed especially favoured by Providence, for is
not this the second time that a beloved being has been restored into
my arms like Lazarus from the grave?"

I was indignant at the heartlessness of his cynicism, and so the
answer that leaped to my lips was out before I had time to reflect
upon its unladylikeness.

"Ay," said I, "and each time you have cried in your soul, like Martha,
'Behold, he stinketh.'"

My cousin laughed aloud.

"You have a sharp tongue," he said, "take care you are not cut with it
yourself some day."

Just then the footmen who had been unpacking Tanty's trunks from the
first carriage laid a great wooden box upon the porch, and one of them
asked Rupert which room they should bring it to.

Rupert looked at it strangely, and then at me.

"Take it where you will," he exclaimed at last. "There lies good
money-value wasted--though, after all, one never knows."

"What is it?" said I, struck by a sinister meaning in his accents.

"Mourning, beautiful Molly--mourning for
you--crape--gowns--weepers--wherewith to have dried your sister's
tears--but not needed yet, you see."

He bared his teeth at me over his shoulder--I could not call it a
smile--and then paused, as he was about to brush past into the hall,
to give me the _pas_, with a mocking bow.

He does not even attempt now to hide his dislike of me, nor to draw
for me that cloak of suave composure over the fierce temper that is
always gnawing at his vitals as surely as fox ever gnawed little
Spartan. He sees that it is useless, I suppose. As I went upstairs to
greet Madeleine, I laughed to myself to think