sudden wild dislike.... That soft, ingratiating hand, with its
dimples and polished nails, which thought it could pat her so easily
into submission....

It was nothing to him, she thought, chokingly, whether she was happy
or unhappy. He had decided on the match--perhaps he had foreseen her
protests and plunged into it, so as to be committed against her
entreaties!--and he was not stopped by any thought of her feelings.

After all her hopes! After all he had promised!

But she told herself that she had never been secure. Beneath all her
trust there had always been the silent fear, slipping through the
shadows like a serpent.... Some instinct for character, more
precocious than her years, had whispered through her fond blindness,
and initiated her into foreboding.

"Come now, my dear," he said heartily, "this is a surprise, of
course, but after all you will find it is for the best--much for the
best--"

His voice died away. After a long pause, "You may make the
arrangements," she told him in a still, tenacious little voice, "but
you cannot make me marry him.... I will never put on the marriage
dress.... Never wear the diadem.... Never stir one step within his
house."

A complete silence succeeded this declaration. He got up violently
from beside her. She did not dare look at him. He was going away,
she thought.