CHAPTER IX.

Clipping A bird’s wings.

The clouds were fast gathering over poor San Souci’s heavens.

The commodore had quite recovered for the time being, and he began to urge the marriage of his niece with his favorite.  Dr. Grimshaw’s importunities were also becoming very tiresome.  They were no longer a jest.  She could no longer divert herself with them.  She felt them as a real persecution, and expressed herself accordingly.  To Grim she said: 

“Once I used to laugh at you.  But now I do hate you more than anything in the universe!  And I wish—­I do wish that you were in heaven! for I do detest the very sight of you—­there!”

And to the commodore’s furious threats she would answer: 

“Uncle, the time has passed by centuries ago for forcing girls into wedlock, thanks be to Christianity and civilization.  You can’t force me to have Grim, and you had as well give up the wicked purpose,” or words to that effect.

One day when she had said something of the sort, the commodore answered, cruelly: 

“Very well, miss!  I force no one, please to understand!  But I afford my protection and support only upon certain conditions, and withdraw them when those conditions are not fulfilled!  Neither you nor your mother had any legal claim upon me.  I was not in any way bound to feed and clothe and house you for so many years.  I did it with the tacit understanding that you were to marry to please me, and all your life you have understood, as well as any of us, that you were to wed Dr. Grimshaw.”

“If such an understanding existed, it was without my consent, and was originated in my infancy, and I do not feel and I will not be in the least degree bound by it!  For the expense of my support and education, uncle!  I am truly sorry that you risked it upon the hazardous chance of my liking or disliking the man of your choice!  But as I had no hand in your venture, I do not feel the least responsible for your losses.  Yours is the fate of a gambler in human hearts who has staked and lost—­that is the worst!”

“And by all the fiends in fire, Minion! you shall find that it is not the worst.  I know how to make you knuckle under, and I shall do it!” exclaimed the commodore in a rage, as he rose up and strode off toward the room occupied by Mary L’Oiseau.  Without the ceremony of knocking, he burst the door open with one blow of his foot, and entered where the poor, feverish, frightened creature was lying down to take a nap.  Throwing himself into a chair by her bedside, he commenced a furious attack upon the trembling invalid.  He recounted, with much exaggeration, the scene that had just transpired between himself and Jacquelina—­repeated with additions her undutiful words, bitterly reproached Mary for encouraging and fostering that rebellious and refractory temper in her daughter, warned her to bring the headstrong girl to a sense of her position and duty, or to prepare to leave his roof; for he swore he “wouldn’t be hectored over and trodden down by her nor her daughter any longer!” And so having overwhelmed the timid, nervous woman with undeserved reproaches and threats, he arose and left the room.