"Never? How about the Colonel?"
Miss Chatterton smiled. "That's the beauty of it. It's the neatest,
sweetest, completest little plot that ever was invented, and it's
simplicity itself, like its inventor--that's me. I suppose you know
all about Mrs. Fazakerly?"
"Well, not all. Who _could_ know all about Mrs. Fazakerly?"
"You know enough, I daresay. By taking her away--I mean Frida--we
force the Colonel's hand."
"You might explain."
"I never saw a man who wanted so many things explained. Don't you
see that, as long as Frida stays at home, petting and pampering him
and doing all his work for him, he'll never take the trouble to
marry; but as soon as she goes away, and stays away----"
"I see, I see; he marries. You force his hand--and heart."
"Exactly. And, if he marries, Frida stays away altogether. She's
free."
"Yes; she's free. If she goes; but she'll never go."
"Won't she? She's going next Monday. It's all arranged. I've told
her that she's in her father's way, that he wants to marry, and
keeps single for her sake. And she believes it."
He walked up and down with his hands in his pockets, a prey to
bewildering emotions.
"It's ingenious and delightful, your plot," said he. "But I can't
say that I grasp all the _minutiae_, the practical details. For
instance (it's a brutal question, but), who's going to provide
the--the funds for this expedition to Scandinavia--or was it
Abyssinia?"
"Funds? Oh, that's all right. She's got any amount of her own,
though you wouldn't know it."
"I didn't know it." He champed his upper lip. He could not in the
least account for the feeling, but he was bitterly, basely
disappointed at this last revelation. Miss Tancred was independent.
Up till now he could not bring himself to believe in her flight; he
did not want to believe in it; it would have been a relief to him to
know that the strange bird's wings were clipped.
"It was her mother's; what the poor lady traveled on, I suppose.
Frida might have been enjoying it all the time, only, you see, there
was the Colonel. That's why she wants him to marry Mrs. Fazakerly,
though she'd rather die than own it."
"Why shouldn't she own it?"
"Because she can't trust her motives, trust herself. I never saw a
woman fight so shy of herself."
"Then that's what she was thinking of when she said she was afraid
of her own feelings."
"Oh! So she _did_ say it, did she?"
"She said that or something very like it. You think that's what she
must have meant?" He appealed to her humbly, as to one who had
mastered the difficult subject of Frida Tancred.
"Why, whatever else _could_ she have meant, stupid?"
There was an awkward silence, broken, or rather mended, by Miss
Chatterton saying, as she stood with her hand on the door:
"Look here, you're not going to back out of it. You've promised to
stand by and see us through with it, honor bright."
"I promised nothing of the sort, but I'll stand by all right."
"You may have a bad time. The Colonel will kick up an awful fuss;
but remember, you're not in the least responsible. I'm the
criminal."
It was as if she had said, "Don't exaggerate your importance. I, not
you, am Miss Tancred's savior and deliverer."