"Then you think that after starting she thought better of it?" said Lord
Bargrave after dinner that night. "And came back?"
Lord Bargrave was Gertrude's cousin, and he and his wife sometimes came
over from Shropshire for a week-end. He sat with Sir Cloud in the
smoking-room; a man with greying hair and a youngish, equable face.
"Yes, Harry, that was it. You see, I'd just happened to put the letter
exactly where I found it. She's no notion that I've seen it."
"She's a thundering good actress!" observed Lord Bargrave, sipping some
whisky. "I knew something was up at dinner, but I didn't know it from
_her_: I knew it from you."
Sir Cloud smiled sadly.
"Well, you see, I'm supposed to be ill--at least, to be not well."
"You'd best take her away at once," said Lord Bargrave. "And don't do it
clumsily. Say you'll go away for a few days, and then gradually lengthen
it out. She mentioned Italy, you say. Well, let it be Italy. Clear out
for six months."
"But my work here?"
"D--n your work here!" said Lord Bargrave. "Do you suppose you're
indispensable here? Do you suppose the Five Towns can't manage without
you? Our caste is decayed, my boy, and silly fools like you try to
lengthen out the miserable last days of its importance by giving
yourselves airs in industrial districts! Your conscience tells you that
what the demagogues say is true--we _are_ rotters on the face of the
earth, we _are_ mediæval; and you try to drown your conscience in the
noise of philanthropic speeches. There isn't a sensible working-man in
the Five Towns who doesn't, at the bottom of his heart, assess you at
your true value--as nothing but a man with a hobby, and plenty of time
and money to ride it."
"I do not agree with you," Sir Cloud said stiffly.
"Yes, you do," said Lord Bargrave. "At the same time I admire you,
Cloud. I'm not built the same way myself, but I admire you--except in
the matter of Gertrude. There you've been wrong--of course from the
highest motives: which makes it all the worse. A man oughtn't to put
hobbies above the wife of his bosom. And, besides, she's one of _us_.
So take her away and stay away and make love to her."
"Suppose I do? Suppose I try? I must tell her!"
"Tell her what?"
"That I read the letter. I acted a lie to her this afternoon. I can't
let that lie stand between us. It would not be right."
Lord Bargrave sprang up.
"Cloud," he cried. "For heaven's sake, don't be an infernal ass. Here
you've escaped a domestic catastrophe of the first magnitude by a
miracle. You've made a sort of peace with Gertrude. She's come to her
senses. And now you want to mess up the whole show by the act of an
idiot! What if you did act a lie to her this afternoon? A very good
thing! The most sensible thing you've done for years! Let the lie stand
between you. Look at it carefully every morning when you awake. It will
help you to avoid repeating in the future the high-minded errors of the
past. See?"