"But I have!" cried some one from the door; and, turning, they beheld
there on the threshold a handsome old lady, with hair snowy white,
figure erect, face imperious--the Dowager Duchess of Markheim. Behind
her, in the twilight of the hall, could be dimly seen the mustachios of
Monsieur Tellier, with Glueck's face glaring at him. "I am not so proud,"
she went on, advancing into the room. "I am quite willing to give my
reasons for breaking off the match. Is this the girl?" she asked,
abruptly.
Susie looked at her with fiery eyes; their glances crossed; one almost
expected to see the sparks fly as of two blades meeting.
"I am not hard-hearted," continued the duchess, after a moment. "But
there are certain affairs of state which must always take precedence of
any mere personal inclination. Did _I_ marry to please myself?" and her
voice shook a little. "By no means--it is no secret. Yet I was faithful
to my husband and to my house. I have never regretted it. Now all that
I have left to love is that boy yonder, and I intend to see that he
makes a match which is worthy of him. Yes, I love him--but he must not
degrade his name--not even for his happiness. It was solicitude for him
that brought me here--I feared--"
Her voice broke; perhaps she had a vision of that tragedy fifty years
ago, when, at her mother's side, she had stared out through the mists of
the morning--
"But no matter," she added, hastily.
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