"My poor Pauline! my dear Pauline!" murmured she, "I have been cruel--forgive me."
Her answer was a fervent embrace--and throwing their arms round one another, they wept in silence.
At this moment the door opened, and a lady entered. She was tall and majestic, but there was an expression of pride and extreme hauteur on her countenance. She wore a handsome but faded dress, and the somewhat high-crowned cap bespoke a love of former fashions. She had a foreign air, and when she addressed her daughter, it was in French.
"How is this!" cried she, angrily. "What scenes are these, Pauline? As often as I enter your room I find you in tears. Is it to your advice, Mademoiselle Percy, that my daughter owes her red eyes?"
Angela was about to reply, but Pauline waved her back.
"Is it, then, a crime to weep, mamma? If there were no tears, the heart would break."
"It is a crime, Pauline, to resist the will of your mother, when she has provided for your happiness in a manner suitable to your rank and birth. It is a crime to break the fifth commandment, which tells you to honor and obey your mother."
"And have I not done both," cried Pauline, indignantly. "Have you not sold my happiness? Have you not bartered perhaps my eternal welfare, that I might lay my aching head upon the downy pillows of the rich, that you might see me a wretched slave, writhing under chains not the less heavy because they are of gold?"
"Have you been reading Racine this morning? Or have you been studying for the stage?" said Madame Dumesnil, in a cold, scornful tone. "You are a good actress, certainly."
Pauline sank upon a chair, and her friend stood beside her, pressing her trembling hand. Her mother advanced and stood before her.
"We will have no more of this, Pauline. If I feel satisfied that my duty is done, you should rejoice in obeying me. I alone am the judge in this matter--children should ever be contented with allowing their parents to act for them; and allow me to say, that any interference of strangers upon an occasion like this, is exceedingly misplaced."
This was aimed at Angela Percy; but she only replied by a wondering and mournful gaze to the stern, cold woman before her. The old lady proceeded.
"Bathe your eyes, Pauline, and arrange your hair. Monsieur de Vaissiere is below. Perhaps," added she, with a sneer, "perhaps that Miss Percy will assist you in entertaining your lover."