250 The Real Charlotte. 



on her knees ; '* I'm in loco parentis to you for the time 

 being — your guardian, if you understand that better — and 

 • there's no good in your beating about the bush with me. 

 What happened between you and Christopher Dysart yester- 

 day afternoon ? " 



" Nothing happened at all," said Francie in a low voice 

 that gave the lie to her words. 



" You're telling me a falsehood ! How have you the 

 face to tell me there was nothing happened when even 

 that fool Louisa could see that something had been 

 going on to make you cry, and to send him packing out 

 of the house not a quarter of an hour after he came 

 into it ! " 



" I told you before he couldn't wait," said Francie, trying 

 to keep the tremble out of her voice. She held the con- 

 ventional belief that Charlotte was queer, but very kind and 

 jolly, but she had a fear of her that she could hardly have 

 given a reason for. It must have been by that measuring 

 and crossing of weapons that takes place unwittingly and 

 yet surely in the consciousness of everyone who lives in in- 

 timate connection with another, that she had learned, like 

 her great-aunt before her, the weight of the real Charlotte's 

 will, and the terror of her personality. 



" Stuff and nonsense ! " broke out Miss Mullen, her eyes 

 beginning to sparkle ominously ; ** thank God I'm not such 

 an ass as the people you've taken in before now ; ye'll not 

 find it so easy to make a fool of me as ye think ! Did he 

 make ye an offer or did he not ? " She leaned forward with 

 her mouth half open, and Francie felt her breath strike on 

 her face, and shrank back. 



" He—he did not." 



Charlotte dragged her chair a pace nearer so that her 

 knees touched Francie. 



*' Ye needn't tell me any lies. Miss ; if he didn't propose, 

 he said something that was equivalent to a proposal. Isn't 

 that the case ? " 



Francie had withdrawn herself as far into the corner of the 

 window as was possible, and the dark folds of the maroon rep 

 curtain made a not unworthy background for her fairness. 

 Her head was turned childishly over her shoulder in the 

 attempt to get as far as she could from her tormentor, and 



