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It's your duty to rouse yourself." Mrs. Severence did rouse herself just at this moment. Cheeks aflame and voice trembling, she stood and said: "You are very kind, Mr. Craig, to offer to assist me in bringing up my family. Surely such such interest is unusual on brief and very slight acquaintance." She rang the bell. "I can show my appreciation in only one way." The old butler, Williams, appeared.
And she had not yet known him a month; and only within the last fortnight had he been making frequent visits entirely on his own invitation, for she certainly would not overtly provoke such a visitation as his coming meant. Mrs. Severence would have been angry had she dared.
Her next ambition was to be rich; without the beauty that appeals to the senses, she married herself to a rich New Englander, Henry Bowker. Her final and fiercest ambition was social power. She married her daughter to the only son and namesake of Lucius Quintus Severence.
"I won't!" exploded Grant, stopping his restless pacing and slamming himself on to a chair. "Oh, yes, you will," asserted Craig, with absolute confidence. "You're not going back on me." "There's nothing in this nothing! I've known Rita Severence nearly twenty years, and I know she's done with you." Craig sprang to his feet, went over and laid his heavy hand heavily upon Arkwright's shoulder.
Among these spectators was Josh's best friend, Arkwright, seated beside Margaret Severence, and masking his satisfaction over the impending catastrophe with an expression of funereal somberness. He could not quite conceal from himself all these hopes that had such an uncomfortable aspect of ungenerousness.
In this particular case of Margaret Severence and Joshua Craig, while his awe of her was an advantage, it was also a disadvantage. It attracted him; it perilously repelled him.
But it was such an INFERNAL lie." "Did you tell him so?" Arkwright grew red. "I see you did not," said Margaret. "I knew you did not. Now, let me tell you, I don't believe Craig said anything of the kind. A man who'd betray a friend is quite capable of lying about him." "Margaret! Rita Severence!" Grant started up, set down his teacup, stood looking down at her, his face white to the lips.
"There's a bouquet with an asp coiled in it," said Arkwright, pleased; for with truly human vanity he had accepted the compliment and had thrown away the criticism. "I'll go bring Josh Craig." "No, not to-night," said Miss Severence, with a sudden compression of the lips and a stern, almost stormy contraction of the brows. "Please don't do that, Rita," cried Arkwright.
His arms, his hands were going, his eyes were glistening, his voice had that rich, sympathetic tone which characterizes the egotist when the subject is himself. Miss Severence listened without comment; indeed, he was not sure that she was listening, so conventional was her expression. But, though she was careful to keep her face a blank, her mind was busy.
A rich girl willing to marry a poor man lets him see she will not be offended if he offers to add himself to her possessions. Yes, it would be quite consistent with sex- custom, with maidenly modesty, for a Severence to make the first open move toward a Josh Craig. "But do I want her?" That was another question. He admired her, he would be proud to have such a wife.
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