Miss Forest drew herself up with her utmost dignity, and measured the
professor from head to foot. "I regret, Mr. Fernow," she said, "that
your penetrating glance has so deceived you. I alone am accountable for
my sympathies and antipathies; besides, I assure you that I thoroughly
detest sentimentality and revery in whatever form and that to me
nothing in the whole world is so antagonistic as--a hero of the pen."
The word was spoken, and, as if he had received a wound, the professor
trembled under this irony. The flame again flashed up in his face, and
from his blue eyes darted a lightning glance that would have made any
other than Jane tremble. For an instant a passionate, indignant reply
seemed to quiver on his lips; then he suddenly averted his face, and
placed his hand over his eyes.
Jane stood immovable. Now she had her will. The storm was invoked. She
had made him angry, angry as he had been that day when he had so
hastily lifted and carried her in his arms to disprove her insinuation
of his want of physical strength.
What now?
After a momentary pause, Fernow turned to her. His face was pale but
perfectly calm, and his voice lacked that peculiar vibration it had
possessed during the whole interview.
"You seem to forget, Miss Forest, that even a lady's privileges have
their limit," he said. "If the social circle in which you move, allows
you so free an expression of your opinions, I beg leave to remind you
that I do not belong to that circle, and will not tolerate direct
insults. I should have answered a man otherwise. As for you, I can only
assure you that it will henceforth be my especial care that our paths
do not again cross."
And with a bow just as cold and distant, just as haughty as Miss Forest
herself had at her command for persons not agreeable to her, he turned
away and vanished behind the wall.
Jane remained standing there motionless, in a sort of bewilderment,
which gradually yielded to the consciousness of what this man had
presumed to say to her. He had mortified, chided, repulsed her! Her,
Jane Forest! This pitiable scholar, upon whom until this hour she had
looked with sympathetic contempt! The contempt indeed was over, but who
could have dreamed that this man, so timid, so helpless in every-day
life, could in a moment, when the conventional barriers fell, become so
unmasked! In the midst of her resentment, Jane experienced something
like a deep satisfaction, that he to her and to her alone, had shown
himself in this light; but that did not lessen her exasperation,
neither did the consciousness that she had driven him to extremities,
and that the rebuke was just, in the least console her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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