IT happened, however, that Girlie Cass was soon to find herself
involved in a middle course. The hall clock had scarcely ceased to
strike when Lord Duckingfield came in from his morning walk. Almost at
once his eye lit on the small abject figure cowering by the fire.
“Why, here you are, Lady Elfreda,” he said, cheerily. “I hope you are
feeling better.”
“Oh, much better--much better, thank you.” The timid, hesitating voice
was very forlorn, but it could find no other words to speak.
“I’m so glad.” And then the honest Midlander studied his watch. “Your
father should be here in about half an hour--if his train is punctual.”
A look of simple terror came into the eyes of the Deputy, but she was
seated too much in the shadow for Lord Duckingfield to be able to see
it. All the same, that gentleman stood looking at her rather oddly and
then suddenly he sat down in a chair by her side. “I don’t want to bore
you.” The tone was very humble. “But before your father comes, I should
like you, my dear, if possible, to reconsider your decision.”
Such words, spoken as they were with kindness, delicacy, self-evident
sincerity, had the effect of precipitating Girlie’s overthrow. She
perceived the real goodness of this man. Wild instinct prompting
her, she suddenly took the bit between her teeth. Before she quite
understood what she was doing she began to tell him everything.
“Suppose”--her voice was so faint that it was scarcely
audible--“suppose I don’t happen to be the daughter of Lord Carabbas?”
“Yes, by all means,” he said, with boyish glee. “Let us suppose you are
plain Miss Brown. Why not? Rank doesn’t make a pennyworth of difference
as far as I am concerned. True, I’ve set up a title of my own. But it’s
only for advertising purposes.” The laugh of my lord was very frank.
“It helps me in business you know. In many ways, I don’t mind telling
you I should be more comfortable without any rank at all.”
In the silence, the rather irksome silence which followed, this almost
too-honest man began to feel, as he so often did, that “he had put his
foot in it as usual.” That phase, however, was brief. For suddenly he
began to realize that he was listening to the recital of a story almost
inconceivably strange.
Girlie’s confession achieved a certain dignity. Her amazing account of
a weak nature in the toils of a strong one gathered force and coherence
as it went on. Lord Duckingfield could hardly believe his ears. As he
turned to look at the scared and quivering creature by his side he
became the prey of strong emotions. The one, however, by which he was
dominated was anger. The little fraud, how dare she! How dare any slip
of a girl play such a trick! For a moment a primitive savagery filled
his heart. Yet being a man who prided himself on his sense of humor,
after the first shock he was able to laugh.
His mirth was not very spontaneous, nevertheless. It sounded hollow. He
would be a public laughing stock. But to do Lord Duckingfield justice,
he saw at once that this aspect of the case was not the one that was
going to hurt most. Rooted somewhere in his robust nature was a genuine
regard for this inconceivably weak and foolish child. She was extremely
pretty, her helplessness was pathetic, she appealed to the highly
developed protective instinct of a strong-willed male of five and forty.
It was the most genuinely comic story he had ever heard. And it was
entirely amazing. He did not doubt that every word was true. But for
all his balance of mind and his largeness of view he could not escape a
sense of chagrin. She had led him on to make a fool of himself. Apart
from the question of her chicanery, which he shrewdly saw went no
deeper than sheer folly, it was going to be very hard to forgive her.
His personal dignity was shattered. True, there was nothing, absolutely
nothing in the whole affair with which he need reproach himself, but
for many a long year the little world in which he moved would tell the
story against him.
No, he couldn’t help feeling angry. Yet, as he looked at this little
fool, as he looked into those gray eyes now filmed with tears that from
the first had appealed to him so oddly, he clearly perceived that she
was not the culprit-in-chief. There was sterner stuff, a force far more
potent behind it all. The real Lady Elfreda, whoever she was, whoever
she might be, was the prime mover in what had happened. At her door
must be laid the guilt of this mad escapade. Common justice required
that on her shoulders the whip must fall.
Still this absurd, this charmingly pretty Miss Cass ought not to be
let off lightly. But the story she told revealed the naked truth.
And somehow the naked truth, unflattering as it was to her and to
himself, brought no dishonor. She had been incredibly weak, she had
been morbidly vain, for out of the depths she had confessed that the
_Saturday Sentinel_ said she had “insight” and therefore she had
been tempted to seize the providential chance of becoming a Miss
Cholmondeley or a Mrs. Humphry Ward; therefore, in the circumstances of
the case, it was impossible for a man cursed with a sense of humor to
lay a heavy hand upon her. She didn’t deserve to be let off lightly,
yet he didn’t feel inclined even now to hurt her very much.
One question there was, however, that he was impelled to put to her.
And on the answer to it a great deal must depend. Why had she not told
him sooner? Why had she encouraged him to make such a fool of himself?
He felt obliged to ask this. And, towering over her, an avenging
figure, he asked it sternly.
“Don’t you see what a hole you’ve landed me in?” he said. “Don’t you
think you might have had the decency to stop me a bit sooner?”
Tears came into the scared eyes. But it was the tone of the words
rather than the words themselves that drew them.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” The sight of her tears seemed to make
him a shade less magisterial. In spite of himself he couldn’t help
softening a little. And in Miss Cass’s present state of emotion the
merest hint of softness was too much for her.
“I d-daren’t,” she sobbed. “I s-simply daren’t.”
“Why not?” It was half indignation, half overmastering curiosity.
“I l-like you so much I c-couldn’t bear to give you up.” The truth came
out in a gulp.
Once more he laughed. But in the act of doing so he realized how much
this rather rubbishy little thing had hurt him.