"I don't prefer it; it is hateful to me. I like to be myself, to have

my liberty, and the confidence of those about me. But I cannot think it

kind to disturb the peace of anyone, and so I try to obey. I've promised

Bella to remain, but I will go rather than have another scene with Miss

Beaufort or with you."

Miss Muir had burst out impetuously, and stood there with a sudden fire

in her eyes, sudden warmth and spirit in her face and voice that amazed

Coventry. She was angry, hurt, and haughty, and the change only made her

more attractive, for not a trace of her former meek self remained.

Coventry was electrified, and still more surprised when she added,

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imperiously, with a gesture as if to put him aside, "Hand me that book

and move away. I wish to go."

He obeyed, even offered his hand, but she refused it, stepped lightly

down, and went to the door. There she turned, and with the same

indignant voice, the same kindling eyes and glowing cheeks, she said

rapidly, "I know I have no right to speak in this way. I restrain myself

as long as I can, but when I can bear no more, my true self breaks

loose, and I defy everything. I am tired of being a cold, calm machine;

it is impossible with an ardent nature like mine, and I shall try no

longer. I cannot help it if people love me. I don't want their love. I

only ask to be left in peace, and why I am tormented so I cannot see.

I've neither beauty, money, nor rank, yet every foolish boy mistakes my

frank interest for something warmer, and makes me miserable. It is my

misfortune. Think of me what you will, but beware of me in time, for

against my will I may do you harm."

Almost fiercely she had spoken, and with a warning gesture she hurried

from the room, leaving the young man feeling as if a sudden thunder-gust

had swept through the house. For several minutes he sat in the chair she

left, thinking deeply. Suddenly he rose, went to his sister, and said,

in his usual tone of indolent good nature, "Bella, didn't I hear Ned ask

you to be kind to Miss Muir?"

"Yes, and I try to be, but she is so odd lately."

"Odd! How do you mean?"

"Why, she is either as calm and cold as a statue, or restless and queer;

she cries at night, I know, and sighs sadly when she thinks I don't

hear. Something is the matter."

"She frets for Ned perhaps," began Coventry.

"Oh dear, no; it's a great relief to her that he is gone. I'm afraid

that she likes someone very much, and someone don't like her. Can it be

Mr. Sydney?"




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