But you must give way in this case, Damaris. Positively you
must. I cannot allow myself to be publicly discredited through your
self-will. I promised the horses for the extra brake. The offer was made
and accepted--accepted, you understand, actually accepted. What will the
vicar say if the arrangement is upset? What will every one think?"
Damaris pushed her chair back from the table and rose to her
feet.--Forbearance wore threadbare under accusation and complaint. No,
Theresa was not only a little too abject, but a little too disingenuous,
thereby putting herself beyond the pale of rightful sympathy. Even while
she protested devotion, self looked out seeking personal advantage. And
that devotion, in itself, shocked Damaris' sense of fitness where it
involved her father. It wasn't Theresa's place to talk of devotion
towards him!
Moreover the young girl began to feel profoundly impatient of all this to
do and bother. For wasn't the whole affair, very much of a storm in a
teacup, petty, paltry, quite unworthy of prolonged discussion such as
this? She certainly thought so, in her youthful fervour and inexperience;
while--the push of awakening womanhood giving new colour and richness
to her conception of life--nature cried out for a certain extravagance in
heroism, in largeness of action of aspiration.
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