"_My heart--my heart--my heart's own heart!_"
The Princess stood before them in the echoes of her glory, her
breath quick, her eyes brilliant.
"Well?" she said, looking straight at Miss Honey, "do I sing as well
as your mother?"
Miss Honey clenched her fists and caught her breath. Her heart was
breaking, but she could not lie.
"You--you--" she motioned blindly to Caroline, and turned away.
"You sing better," Caroline began sullenly; but the lady pointed to
Miss Honey.
"No, you tell me," she insisted remorselessly.
Miss Honey faced her.
"You--you sing better than my m-mother," she gulped, "but I _love_
her better, and she's nicer than you, and I don't love you at
_all_!"
She buried her face in the red velvet throne, and sobbed aloud with
excitement and fatigue. Caroline ran to her: how could she have
loved that cruel woman? She cast an ugly look at the Princess as she
went to comfort Miss Honey, but the Princess was at the throne
before her.
"Oh, I am abominable," she cried. "I am too horrid to live! It
wasn't kind of me, _cherie_, and I love you for standing up for
your mother. There's no one to do as much for me, when _I'm_ down
and out--no one!" Sorrow swept over her flexible face like a veil,
and seizing Miss Honey in her strong nervous arms she wept on her
shoulder.
Pages:
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67