Under the first shock she forgot everything but her anger, and snatched at any phrase that would serve as a weapon.
"If Klesmer has presumed to offer himself to you, your father shall horsewhip him off the premises. Pray, speak, Mr Arrowpoint."
The father took his cigar from his mouth, and rose to the occasion by saying, "This will never do, Cath."
"Do!" cried Mrs Arrowpoint; "who in their senses ever thought it would do? You might as well say poisoning and strangling will not do. It is a comedy you have got up, Catherine. Else you are mad."
"I am quite sane and serious, mamma, and Herr Klesmer is not to blame. He never thought of my marrying him. I found out that he loved me, and loving him, I told him I would marry him."
"Leave that unsaid, Catherine," said Mrs Arrowpoint, bitterly. "Every one else will say it for you. You will be a public fable. Every one will say that you must have made the offer to a man who has been paid to come to the house—who is nobody knows what—a gypsy, a Jew, a mere bubble of the earth."
"Never mind, mamma," said Catherine, indig-
