She had sprung to her feet and was
facing her mother.
"Was it for this that he released your father the other day?"
Desire looked at her mother without a word, in a way that was an
answer. Mrs. Edwards seemed completely overcome, while Desire met her
horrified gaze with a species of desperate hardihood.
"Yes, it is I," she said, in a shrill, nervously excited tone. "It is
your daughter, Desire Edwards, whom this fellow has for a sweetheart.
Oh, yes. He kisses me where he chooses, and I do not cry out. Isn't it
fine, ha! ha!" and then her overstrained feelings finding expression
in a burst of hysterical laughter, she threw herself back into her
chair, and buried her face in her arms on the table as at first.
"What's the matter? What ails the girl?" said Edwards, coming in from
the store, and viewing the scene with great surprise.
"The matter?" replied Mrs. Edwards slowly. "The matter is this: as
that fellow was leaving, and your back was turned, he took our girl
here and hugged and kissed her, and though she resisted what she
could, she did not cry out. I stood in that door and saw it with my
own eyes. When I called her to account for this scandal, she began
vehemently to weep, and protested that she dared not anger him by
outcry, fearing for your life if he were offended.
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