"It does not matter," Mrs. Arnold replied, flushing to a dark red under the clear pure eyes bent upon her. "Perhaps he told me himself. One would think that even so elderly a lover would consult a young lady's guardian and protector before addressing her! But no matter how I came by my information, you admit its truth." "Certainly, madam," Bonnibel answered quietly, but wondering within herself what all this fencing meant. She was growing slightly nervous. The fair hands trembled slightly as they hung lightly clasped before her, and the white and red rose triumphed alternately in her cheek. Mrs. Arnold stood resting her folded arms on the back of a chair, regarding the lovely young creature as if she had been a culprit before the bar of justice. "May I ask what were your reasons for declining the honor Colonel Carlyle offered you?" she inquired in measured tones. Bonnibel was half-tempted to deny Mrs. Arnold's right to ask such a question. With an effort she fought down the quick impulse, and answered in a voice as gentle as the other's was rude and self-assertive: "I did not love him, Aunt Arnold!" "Love! Love!" sneered the widow contemptuously. "What had _love_ to do with the matter? You, a poor, penniless, dependent creature, to prate of love when such a man as Colonel Carlyle lays his millions at your feet! You should have jumped at the chance and thanked him for his condescension!" The listener regarded her with horror and amazement. Her delicate lips quivered with feeling, and her eyes were misty with unshed tears. "Surely, Aunt Arnold," she said, questioningly, "you would not have had me accept Colonel Carlyle simply for his gold?" "Yes, I would, though," answered Mrs. Arnold roughly, "and what is more, I intend that you _shall_ accept him, Bonnibel Vere! Girl, you must have been mad to dream of refusing such a splendid offer. When Colonel Carlyle returns for his final answer you will tell him that your first refusal was only a girlish freak of coquetry, to try his love, and that you accept his offer gratefully." Bonnibel's cheeks turned as white as her dress, a mist rose before her eyes, shutting out the sight of her aunt's angry face. She staggered and put out her hand to steady herself by a chair. Mrs. Arnold regarded her with an air of cold insolence. "I thought you would find it rather beyond your strength to stand before our conversation was over," she remarked, with slight sarcasm. Bonnibel did not seem to hear the last shaft of malice. She answered the preceding words in a voice that she strove to render steady and controlled. "I cannot recognize your right to dictate to me in a matter that concerns myself alone, madam." Mrs. Arnold listened to the proud, calm tones in furious wrath. "You defy my authority? You refuse to obey me?" she broke out angrily.