"You may take refuge in a sneer," continued Anne, somewhat hotly, "and play with Frances' feelings as much as you like, and as much as you have done, and few will trouble their heads about it; but it's a shame to carry on the same game with a governess, who cannot help herself, and is obliged, nay expected, to put up with slights from everybody." "Not from me, Anne." "Yes, from you, who are making love to two girls at the same time." "How dare you accuse me of so dishonourable an action?" exclaimed Charles. "Dare? Oh, I dare a great deal more than that," replied Anne, tossing her head. "Any way, you could not accuse one of much worse." "It is the truth, nevertheless, and I cannot see that there is anything daring about it. The daring is not in my speaking, but in your own act." "I never made love to Frances, or if I did, her own cold pride annihilated any partiality I might have had for her." "Partiality!" uttered Anne, sarcastically, "Defend me from such partiality from any man. I wonder you did not say flirtation; but even your assurance could not summon courage to tell such a fib as that." "A truce to this folly, Anne, or I shall get angry, and you can't convince me I ever--" he hesitated a moment--"loved Frances. Allowing that I did show her a little attention, I don't see she is any the worse for it." "You have succeeded in making her miserable, although you have not broken her heart, and now want to play Miss Neville the same trick; but I won't stand by and see it, I declare I won't; my woman's heart won't let me; so, if you begin that game, we wage war to the knife. I cannot help pitying Frances, whom I dislike, and will not, if I can help it, have to pity Miss Neville also." "There is no reason why you should. Miss Neville is superior to a dozen like Frances." Anne opened her eyes at this, but wisely held her tongue. He went on, "I swear, Anne, I'll never give you reason to pity Miss Neville; but she has sprained her wrist, I think very severely. That confounded brute was the cause of it." "Man or beast?" she asked. "'Tis difficult to know which you mean." "My horse," replied he, determined not to be laughed into a good temper. "She would hold him at the lake when I asked her not to; but women are so obstinate, they will have their own way; there is no reasoning with them. I would not have allowed her if I could have foreseen what was going to happen, but how could I? and now the mischief is done, and she is pretty considerably hurt." "All her own fault, according to your account, so why should you vex yourself about it? Men generally send us to 'Old Harry' under such circumstances." "But I consider it to have been partly my fault; I was a fool to allow her to hold the horse, and a still greater one, inasmuch as now the mischief is done, I am unable to help her." "In what?"