You know," the girl flushed suddenly a bright crimson, "Lord Tatham sent
him money--and he's quite comfortable. _I_ am not going home just yet! I
am not going back to Italy--till--I have seen my father!"
She faced round upon Victoria and her mother, her hands on her hips, her
breath fluttering.
"Felicia!" cried her mother, "you can't. I tell you--you can't! I should
never allow it!"
"Yes, you would, mother! What are you afraid of? He can't kill me. It's
ridiculous. I must see my father. I will! He is getting old--he may die.
I will see him before I leave England. I don't care whether he gives us
the money or not!"
Victoria's bright eyes showed her sympathy; though she did not interfere.
But Netta shrank into herself.
"You are always such a wilful child, Felicia! You mustn't do anything
without my leave. You'll kill me if you do."
And ashen-pale, she got up and left the room. Victoria glanced at
Felicia.
"Don't do anything against your mother's will," she said gently. "You are
too young to decide these things for yourself. But, if you can, persuade
her to follow Lord Tatham's advice. He is most anxious to help you in the
best way. And he does not believe that Mr. Melrose could hurt your
grandfather."
Felicia shook her curly head, frowning.
"One cannot persuade mother--one cannot. She is obstinate--oh, so
obstinate! If it were me, I would do anything Lord Tatham asked
me!--anything in the world."
She stood with her hands behind her back, her slight figure drawn up, her
look glowing.
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