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Authors: Rafael Sabatini
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excessively, disliked her because she was the one person in the world who governed him, who
rode rough-shod over his feelings and desires; because, perhaps, she was the mother of his unfeeling, detestable son. She may not have been the only person living to despise Lord Ostermore; but she
was certainly the only one with the courage to manifest her contempt, and that in no circumscribed terms. And yet, disliking her as he did, returning with interest her contempt of him, he veiled
it, and was loyal to his termagant, never suffering himself to utter a complaint of her to others, never suffering others to censure her within his hearing. This loyalty may have had its roots in
pride—indeed, no other soil can be assigned to them—a pride that would allow no strangers to pry into the sore places of his being. He frowned now to hear Hortensia's angry mention of
her ladyship's name; and if his blue eyes moved uneasily under his beetling brows, it was because the situation irked him. How should he stand as judge between Mistress Winthrop—towards whom,
as we have seen, he had a kindness—and his wife, whom he hated, yet towards whom he would not be disloyal?
He wished the subject dropped, since, did he ask the obvious question—in what my Lady Ostermore could have been the cause of Hortensia's flight—he would provoke, he knew, a storm of
censure from his wife. Therefore he fell silent.
Hortensia, however, felt that she had said too much not to say more.
"Her ladyship has never failed to make me feel my position—my—my poverty," she pursued. "There is no slight her ladyship has not put upon me, until not even your servants use me with
the respect that is due to my father's daughter. And my father," she added, with a reproachful glance, "was your friend, my lord."
He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, deploring now the question with which he had fired the train of feminine complaint. "Pish, pish!" he deprecated, "'tis fancy, child—pure fancy!"
"So her Ladyship would say, did you tax her with it. Yet your lordship knows I am not fanciful in other things. Should I, then, be fanciful in this?"
"But what has her ladyship ever done, child?" he demanded, thinking thus to baffle her—since he was acquainted with the subtlety of her ladyship's methods.
"A thousand things," replied Hortensia hotly, "and yet not one upon which I may fasten. 'Tis thus she works: by words, half-words, looks, sneers, shrugs, and sometimes foul abuse entirely
disproportionate to the little cause I may unwittingly have given."
"Her ladyship is a little hot," the earl admitted, "but a good heart; 'tis an excellent heart, Hortensia."
"For hating—ay, my lord."
"Nay, plague on't! That's womanish in you. 'Pon honor it is! Womanish!"
"What else would you have a woman? Mannish and raffish, like my Lady Ostermore?"
"I'll not listen to you," he said. "Ye're not just, Hortensia. Ye're heated; heated! I'll not listen to you. Besides, when all is said, what reasons be these for the folly ye've committed?"
"Reasons?" she echoed scornfully. "Reasons and to spare! Her ladyship has made my life so hard, has so shamed and crushed me, put such indignities upon me, that existence grew unbearable under
your roof. It could not continue, my lord," she pursued, rising under the sway of her indignation. "It could not continue. I am not of the stuff that goes to making martyrs. I am weak,
and—and—as your lordship has said—womanish."
"Indeed, you talk a deal," said his lordship peevishly. But she did not heed the sarcasm.
"Lord Rotherby," she continued, "offered me the means to escape. He urged me to elope with him. His reason was that you would never consent to our marriage; but that if we took the matter into
our hands, and were married first, we might depend upon your sanction afterwards; that you had too great a kindness for me to withhold your pardon. I was weak, my lord—womanish," (she threw
the word at him again) "and it happened—God
rode rough-shod over his feelings and desires; because, perhaps, she was the mother of his unfeeling, detestable son. She may not have been the only person living to despise Lord Ostermore; but she
was certainly the only one with the courage to manifest her contempt, and that in no circumscribed terms. And yet, disliking her as he did, returning with interest her contempt of him, he veiled
it, and was loyal to his termagant, never suffering himself to utter a complaint of her to others, never suffering others to censure her within his hearing. This loyalty may have had its roots in
pride—indeed, no other soil can be assigned to them—a pride that would allow no strangers to pry into the sore places of his being. He frowned now to hear Hortensia's angry mention of
her ladyship's name; and if his blue eyes moved uneasily under his beetling brows, it was because the situation irked him. How should he stand as judge between Mistress Winthrop—towards whom,
as we have seen, he had a kindness—and his wife, whom he hated, yet towards whom he would not be disloyal?
He wished the subject dropped, since, did he ask the obvious question—in what my Lady Ostermore could have been the cause of Hortensia's flight—he would provoke, he knew, a storm of
censure from his wife. Therefore he fell silent.
Hortensia, however, felt that she had said too much not to say more.
"Her ladyship has never failed to make me feel my position—my—my poverty," she pursued. "There is no slight her ladyship has not put upon me, until not even your servants use me with
the respect that is due to my father's daughter. And my father," she added, with a reproachful glance, "was your friend, my lord."
He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, deploring now the question with which he had fired the train of feminine complaint. "Pish, pish!" he deprecated, "'tis fancy, child—pure fancy!"
"So her Ladyship would say, did you tax her with it. Yet your lordship knows I am not fanciful in other things. Should I, then, be fanciful in this?"
"But what has her ladyship ever done, child?" he demanded, thinking thus to baffle her—since he was acquainted with the subtlety of her ladyship's methods.
"A thousand things," replied Hortensia hotly, "and yet not one upon which I may fasten. 'Tis thus she works: by words, half-words, looks, sneers, shrugs, and sometimes foul abuse entirely
disproportionate to the little cause I may unwittingly have given."
"Her ladyship is a little hot," the earl admitted, "but a good heart; 'tis an excellent heart, Hortensia."
"For hating—ay, my lord."
"Nay, plague on't! That's womanish in you. 'Pon honor it is! Womanish!"
"What else would you have a woman? Mannish and raffish, like my Lady Ostermore?"
"I'll not listen to you," he said. "Ye're not just, Hortensia. Ye're heated; heated! I'll not listen to you. Besides, when all is said, what reasons be these for the folly ye've committed?"
"Reasons?" she echoed scornfully. "Reasons and to spare! Her ladyship has made my life so hard, has so shamed and crushed me, put such indignities upon me, that existence grew unbearable under
your roof. It could not continue, my lord," she pursued, rising under the sway of her indignation. "It could not continue. I am not of the stuff that goes to making martyrs. I am weak,
and—and—as your lordship has said—womanish."
"Indeed, you talk a deal," said his lordship peevishly. But she did not heed the sarcasm.
"Lord Rotherby," she continued, "offered me the means to escape. He urged me to elope with him. His reason was that you would never consent to our marriage; but that if we took the matter into
our hands, and were married first, we might depend upon your sanction afterwards; that you had too great a kindness for me to withhold your pardon. I was weak, my lord—womanish," (she threw
the word at him again) "and it happened—God
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