A
fine, stiff, rustling silk it was, and over it shone Ursula's
crimson cheeks and gleaming eyes, and masses of nut brown hair.
"As she turned from the glass she heard her father's voice below,
loud and angry. Growing very pale, she ran out into the hall.
Her father was already half way upstairs, his face red with fury.
In the hall below Ursula saw her step-mother, looking troubled and
vexed. At the door stood Malcolm Ramsay, a homely neighbour youth
who had been courting Ursula in his clumsy way ever since she grew
up. Ursula had always hated him.
"'Ursula!' shouted old Hugh, 'come here and tell this scoundrel he
lies. He says that you met Kenneth MacNair in the beechgrove last
Tuesday. Tell him he lies! Tell him he lies!'
"Ursula was no coward. She looked scornfully at poor Ramsay.
"'The creature is a spy and a tale-bearer,' she said, 'but in this
he does not lie. I DID meet Kenneth MacNair last Tuesday.'
"'And you dare to tell me this to my face!' roared old Hugh.
'Back to your room, girl! Back to your room and stay there! Take
off that finery. You go to no more dances. You shall stay in
that room until I choose to let you out. No, not a word! I'll put
you there if you don't go. In with you--ay, and take your
knitting with you.
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