Marjorie Bowen

“ I know no man could dare accuse me."
"And I know a hundred," returned his father. "Arrogance is strangely blind—it stands on a hill and heeds not how the foundations are being sapped till it falls on its face in the mire. And nothing is more pitiable than fallen arrogance."
"Sir—you speak as if I was a boy to be taught by your parables," cried Sir John wrathfully. "I say that by this act of yours you have made me dishonor my word—" Then his angry thoughts flashed to what Delia knew and he turned to his father. "It may ruin my plans with the Macdonalds." ”

“ As she spoke the Countess lifted her eyes to a portrait over the bureau, it was of Sir John and taken in his May of life; he wore a cuirass and plumed hat and smiled out of the canvas, as handsome a face as a man may have.
His wife followed the Countess's glance.
"He is not like that now," she said bitterly. She rose. "Did you ever hate any one, madam?" she asked. Then, without waiting, she answered herself. "It is terrible to hate," she said hoarsely. "And terrible to be hated."
She turned wildly about and caught up the cage of bullfinches. ”

“ The Countess turned to her sharply.
"Woman, woman," she cried. "Dinna ye ken that a man likes a cheerfu' face aboot him, and a house that is warm and well-lighted, not a great auld barn like this, which would disconcert ony but ghosts?"
A faint flush crept into Lady Dalrymple's face.
"And am I to give all the service? I am to supply all the gaiety, the life, the care against his mere tolerance?"
"Yes," was the calm answer. "It comes to about that if ye want a life that is worth living—ye must give somewhat your side; remember he has more on his mind than ye will ever ken." ”