She was a heroine in her own eyes, and that made her inclined to
magnify all the persecution and cruelty. They wanted to shut her up
from the friends of her childhood, to force her to be false and
fashionable; they had made her naughtier and naughtier ever since she
came there; they were teaching her to tell falsehoods now, and to
give up the Wardours. She would never never do it! Helpless girl as
she was, she would be as brave as the knights and earls her
ancestors, and stand up for the truth. But what would they do at
her! Oh! could she bear Aunt Barbara's dreadful set Diana face
again, and not write as she was told!
The poor weak little heart shrank with terror as she only looked at
Aunt Barbara's chair--not much like the Sir Giles de Umfraville she
had thought of just now. "And I'm naughty now; I did betray my
trust: I'm much naughtier than I was. Oh, if Papa was but here!"
And then a light darted into Kate's eye, and a smile came on her lip.
"Why should not I go home? Papa would have me again; I know he
would! He would die rather than leave his child Kate to be made
wicked, and forced to tell lies! Perhaps he'll hide me! Oh, if I
could go to school with the children at home in disguise, and let
Uncle Giles be Earl of Caergwent if he likes! I've had enough of
grandeur! I'll come as Cardinal Wolsey did, when he said he was come
to lay his bones among them--and Sylvia and Mary, and Charlie and
Armyn--oh, I must go where someone will be kind to me again! Can I
really, though? Why not?" and her heart beat violently.
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