“You nasty, spiteful, tale-telling disagreeable thing!” cried Nancy, furious, turning upon her sister, who laughed in her face, and ran round in fright, which was half real, half pretended, to the other side of the round table. Arthur stood aghast while this playful episode, so much out of keeping with his feelings, went on. It was out of keeping to Nancy too. No smile came upon her face. “I thought it was a great marriage I was making, if you please,” she said, after she too had paused with the sense of a crisis, and stared at her sister’s pretended sportiveness. No smile relaxed the lips of either of the contending pair. “I thought so, you may say it. I thought I should be a lady, and mix with the best in the land; what’s come of it? Have I ever set foot among the folks you belong to, or their kind? No, I said the truth, there’s no door been open to me--the other way! You would shut mother’s door upon me if you could, you would keep me away from my own folks--the only friends I have. But you’ll never do it, Arthur, you may as well give it up at once. I’ll stick to them that’s good to me, and I won’t stir a step to court your people, nor to curry favour--no, not if you would ask me on your knees. I wrote to my lady, because I promised, but my lady wouldn’t make much of my letter; and never will I make myself so cheap again, never if I should live hundreds of years.” “Nancy, Nancy, my child!” cried her mother, “you must not make rash vows. You don’t know what you’ll do till the time comes. She’s hot-tempered. That’s all about. And if Arthur will say he is sorry--” “What shall I say I am sorry for, Mrs. Bates?” “Oh, now this is too bad. Don’t you see it will please her? She always was a bit unreasonable and high-tempered. You can’t help your temper, it’s a thing that’s born with you. Say you’re sorry, and smooth her down a little, and she’ll soon come round and promise anything you like. I know my Nancy. She is hot-headed, and she’s contrairy, but her heart’s in the right place,” said the mother. Mrs. Bates was frightened by the contraction in Arthur’s face. “I have nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “I have made no accusations against anyone; but I cannot always give in. I have come here to please her, and she is not pleased. Let us go away. Let Nancy second me in my attempt to get back into a natural life. It is not natural that I should be cooped up here, doing nothing, wasting my time. I must get out of it somehow. Either you will go with me, Nancy, or I must go alone. I cannot go on in this way any longer.”