"No, he intimated he couldn't marry me, on--on account of my
misfortune. Oh, don't let's talk about it. He and I understand each
other. He loves me, but we're not engaged."
Mrs. Floyd leaned against the mantel-piece. Her face had become hard
and stern. Harriet started to leave the room, but Mrs. Floyd suddenly
stepped between her and the door.
"He intimated that _that_ would keep him from marrying you? My
Lord--the coward!"
"Mother, don't--don't say that!"
"I thought he was a _man_! Why, he is lower than a brute."
Harriet disengaged herself from her mother's grasp, and passed on to
the door. She turned on the threshold.
"I have no time to quarrel with you about him," she said, with a sigh;
"you can have your opinion, nothing on earth will change mine. He
loves me. I am going to see him now, and nothing you can say or do
will prevent me."
Her shoes rattled loosely on the bare floor and on the stairs as she
went down to the street.
During the night the sycamore-trees had strewn the ground with
half-green, half-yellow leaves, and the tops of the fences were white
with frost.
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