"It's not only a question of what Vanno may want," he said, with a very
evident effort not to be harsh to a woman, defenceless if guilty. "You
don't seem to realize, Miss Grant, that--both he and I owe something to
our father--to our forefathers. The men of our family have done things
they ought not to do. History tells of them. But history tells also that
they have never taken wives unworthy to be the mothers of noble sons."
Then at last Mary rose swiftly, bidden to her feet not by Angelo's
haughty eyes but by her own pride of womanhood, and resentment of the
whip with which he had dared to lash her.
"If Vanno were here he would kill you!" the strange something that was
not herself cried out in a voice that was not hers.
Angelo's face hardened as he looked down at her with a bitter contempt.
"So you would rejoice in bringing strife between brothers!" he said. "I
had not yet thought so badly of you as that. But there are such women.
It was almost incredible to me at first that you--in face a sweet young
girl--could have accepted Vanno's love without telling him about--your
past, and at least giving him the chance to choose. Now I begin to see
you in a different light."
"You see me in a false light," Mary said passionately. "You tortured
that out of me--about Vanno. I didn't mean it. I'd rather die this
moment than bring strife between you. I know he loves you dearly. But if
you loved him as well, you couldn't have spoken as you did to me.
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