Then arose the remembrance of his arrogance and presumption
in assuming on such a ground something more than guardianship--
absolute tyranny over her, and with the thought pride and injury at
once got the upper hand. Was she to be dictated to by a low born,
low bred fellow like that--a fellow whose hands were harder than
any leather, not with doing things for his amusement but actually
with earning his daily bread--one that used to smell so of fish
--on the ground of right too--and such a right as ought to
exclude him for ever from her presence!--She turned to him again.
"How long have you known this--this--painful--indeed I must
confess to finding it an awkward and embarrassing fact? I presume
you do know it?" she said, coldly and searchingly.
"My father confessed it on his deathbed."
"Confessed!" echoed Florimel's pride, but she restrained her tongue.
"It explains much," she said, with a sort of judicial relief.
"There has been a great change upon you since then. Mind I only
say explains. It could never justify such behaviour as yours--
no, not if you had been my true brother. There is some excuse, I
daresay, to be made for your ignorance and inexperience. No doubt
the discovery turned your head. Still I am at a loss to understand
how you could imagine that sort of--of--that sort of thing gave
you any right over me!"
"Love has its rights, my lady," said Malcolm.
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