"Bruck’s idolized love, who needed to pass through all her errors to appreciate the magnitude of her good fortune," Flora completed the sentence, in a tone of triumph. Then, with a malicious gleam in her eyes, she added, "But you can be excessively impertinent, child. I am really struck by the fine turn you gave to my simile. I admit that a fair share of quite respectable intelligence has fallen to you,—just enough, indeed, to mislead you entirely in your estimate of genius, of a soul of fire. What can you know of a psychological problem? If I had uttered yesterday one word of friendship forfeited, you would be right in your indignation at my sudden change, for nothing of passion can come of friendship; while hate and love are close akin in the human soul,—they enkindle each other; excess of love often lies at the foundation of what seems bitter hatred. You, with your blunt sensibilities, can never understand this. You would propitiate your husband by some triumph of cookery, while a nature like mine, in the intensity of its desire to atone, might commit a crime for him, nay, even suffer death."
She pressed her clenched fist to her breast, as if she were even then thrusting a dagger into her heart. "And now let me tell you, never have I loved Bruck so passionately, so intensely, as since I have known how he has endured like a martyr, like a hero, in silence,—since I confessed to myself how bitterly I have wronged him; and never,"—she suddenly seized Kitty’s hand in a clasp that was as cold as the wind which came blowing from the water,—"and never," she whispered, "have I been so fiercely jealous. Heed what I say, child! This is _my_ domain. And although you are the last to be held dangerous by me,—he has no liking for you, as I have long observed, and, besides, will never have eye or ear for any other save myself,—still, I am not disposed to endure the presence near me of any one who so evidently seeks to please. Your ’homely’ ways and conduct here, your intimate going and coming, do not suit me. For the future all this must cease. Do you understand, child?"
Having thus spoken, she picked up her train and turned hastily towards the house, as if to bar all reply,—a needless precaution, for Kitty’s pale lips were firmly closed. Youth and innocence had no reply for such a heaped-up measure of arrogance, waywardness, and deceit.