Again her eyes flashed and her cheek flushed. "I cannot permit you
to talk so to me. You must not fancy such things are looked upon
in our position with the same indifference as in yours. You must
not flatter yourself that you can be allowed to cherish the same
feelings towards me as if--as if--you were really my brother.
I am sorry for you, Malcolm, as I said already; but you have
altogether missed your mark if you think that can alter facts, or
shelter you from the consequences of presumption."
Again she turned away. Malcolm's heart was sore for her. How
grievously she had sunk from the Lady Florimel of the old days! It
was all from being so constantly with that wretched woman and her
vile nephew. Had he been able to foresee such a rapid declension,
he would have taken her away long ago, and let come of her feelings
what might. He had been too careful over them.
"Indeed," Florimel resumed, but this time without turning towards
him, "I do not see how things can possibly, after what you have
told me, remain as they are. I should not feel at all comfortable
in having one about me who would be constantly supposing he had
rights, and reflecting on my father for fancied injustice, and
whom I fear nothing could prevent from taking liberties. It is very
awkward indeed, Malcolm--very awkward! But it is your own fault
that you are so changed, and I must say I should not have expected
it of you.
Pages:
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476