" Mildred replied, trembling
at her own boldness, "but you will not let me; and I must tell you,
kindly, but decidedly, that I never could marry Hugh under any
circumstances whatever."

Her mother did not wince at the rebuff, but followed on even closer.
"And why? Who is there more manly, well-educated, kindly, dutiful,
than Hugh?"

"I don't wish to analyze his character; probably we shouldn't
altogether agree in our judgment; but it is enough that I don't feel
in the least attracted by him, and that I could not love him, if he
were all that you imagine."

"Then you love another!" said Mrs. Kinloch, fiercely.

Mildred was excessively agitated; but, though her knees trembled, her
voice was clear and soft as it had been. "Yes, I do love another; and
I don't hesitate to avow it."

"That blacksmith's upstart?" in a still louder key.

"You mean Mark Davenport, probably, who deserves more respectful
language."

"Brought up in coal-dust,--the spoiled and forward pet of a foolish
old stutterer, who depends for his bread on his dirty work, and who,
if he had only his own, would have to leave even the hovel he works
in." It was fearful to see how these contemptuous words were hissed
out by the infuriated woman.

Mildred was courageous, but she had not passed through the discipline
that had developed her step-mother's faculties. So she burst into
tears, saying, amidst her sobs, that Mark was allowed by all who knew
him to be a young man of promise; that, for herself, she didn't care
how much coal-dust he had been through,--_that_ would wash off; that,
at any rate, she loved him, and would never marry anybody else.

Mrs. Kinloch began to consider. Anger had whirled her away once; a
second explosion might create an irreparable breach between them.

"Don't lay up what I have said, Mildred," she urged, in a mild voice.
"If I object to your choice, it is because I am proud of you and want
you to look high. You can marry whom you choose; no rank or station
need be considered above you. Come, don't cry, dear!"

But Mildred refused to be soothed. She could not sympathize with the
tropical nature, that smiled like sunshine at one moment, and the next
burst into the fury of a tornado. She pushed off the beseeching hand,
turned from the offered endearments, and, with reddened, tear-stained
face, left the room.

Hugh presently passed through the hall. "Well, mother," said he, "I
suppose you think you've done it now."

"Go ab