HAVING IT OUT
"Mr. Driver," announced Knight at half-past three that Monday afternoon.
Carrissima at once came to the conclusion that she had never seen him
look so solemn--or quite so handsome, although she wished that he had
stayed away.
"How are you, Mark?" she said, mustering a smile, however, as she held
out her hand.
"I have come rather early," he answered, and Carrissima noticed that he
barely touched her finger tips.
"Won't you sit down?" she suggested, returning to her own chair.
"So that I might make certain of finding you alone," continued Mark,
still standing in the middle of the room.
"Well, your object is attained," she cried brightly. "Father is not at
home, and I am not expecting any visitors."
"I thought the best plan," he said, "was to have it out without any
waste of time."
"Oh dear!" murmured Carrissima. "Have what out?"
"I am going to speak quite plainly----"
"Why in the world shouldn't you?"
"I want to know," said Mark, "why you--of all people--told Sybil
Clynesworth--well, what you did tell her?"
"What did I?" asked Carrissima.
"It amounts to this. That I have been acting like a pretty miserable
humbug and scoundrel combined."
"Mark!" faltered Carrissima, "I didn't. I couldn't have said anything
of the sort."
"Then Sybil deliberately invented the story!"
"But what--what story?" said Carrissima.
"The charming little tale she repeated to Jimmy!"
"If only you could manage to be a little more explicit," urged
Carrissima, with a suggestion of annoyance in her tone.
"Oh, I shall speak out plainly enough," said Mark. "Sybil told Jimmy I
had been carrying on a wretched intrigue with Bridget--neither more nor
less. She gave you as her authority."
"She had no right," exclaimed Carrissima, and for an instant Mark's
face cleared.
"Do you mean to say that you haven't mentioned my name to Sybil in such
a connection?" he demanded, taking a step nearer.
"Yes, I mentioned your name," Carrissima admitted. "But I could never
have said that--never! I feel almost certain I couldn't."
"Good heavens!" cried Mark, "you don't seem to know what you told her
and what you didn't!"
Strange as it might appear to him, that was precisely the truth. She
scarcely remembered what she had said in her excitement and
disappointment, although she had little doubt it was something far too
much to the point. His wrath was in some degree a relief to
Carrissima, although she could not imagine what plausible excuse he
could intend to offer. Because, after all, she could not disbelieve
the evidence of her own senses.
"Mark," she said, "I don't think you are treating me in the least
fairly."
"How is that?" he demanded.
"Oh well, you come here and take the offensive----"
"Then you believe I have nothing to do but defend myself?" said Mark.
"I can only suppose," she retorted, "that you fancy the best method is
to try to carry the war into the enemy's country."
"My enemy--you! Good Lord!" exclaimed Mark.
"Of course," she continued, "there doesn't exist the slightest reason
why you should take the trouble to excuse yourself to me. You have
done me no wrong."
"By Jove! you have done me a cruel one," he said, with evident emotion.
"I am sorry I said a word to Sybil," answered Carrissima. "But she
happened to be here when I got home from Golfney Place that afternoon.
You know what I saw there----"
"I wish to goodness you hadn't gone near the house!" said Mark.
"No doubt you do!" she retorted. "It was no business of mine, only it
seemed so utterly inconsistent with that you distinctly told me!"
"I told you precisely the truth," he insisted.
"Oh, what nonsense!" said Carrissima.
"How could it be! You told me that Bridget was--was nothing to you."
"She was nothing. She is nothing."
"If that is really the case," said Carrissima, "why, then your conduct
appears inexplicable."
"Why didn't you tackle me?" he demanded. "Surely you have known me
long enough!"
Carrissima realized that the circumstances were against her. She had,
before to-day, come to the conclusion that those first excited
suspicions were entirely unjustifiable; although Mark had no doubt
deceived her, he could not be so bad as she had imagined at the time.
She perceived that she might find one excuse which yet she durst not
mention. If she could admit plainly that the sight of Bridget in his
arms made her madly jealous and for the moment unaccountable for her
words, then, perhaps, Mark might be mollified. At least this defence
would be true. It seemed incongruous that she instead of him should be
considered the offender; but above everything Carrissima must keep back
the only explanation which was likely to sound plausible.
"It was nothing to me," she said.
"Anyhow, it was a great deal to me," replied Mark. "Of course I played
the fool that afternoon. I don't want to make excuses. I admit there
are none. But you ought to understand that Bridget was an innocent
victim. No one was to blame but myself, and I not very severely. Yet
because of one act of momentary folly you could tell Sybil that
monstrous story."
"Well, I am sorry," said Carrissima. "I was carried away by
excitement. I suppose it's a weakness of mine! I sometimes do tell
people things and repent afterwards. I don't pretend to be immaculate."
"The fact is," returned Mark, "you've always been down on Bridget. The
girl is absolutely straight! What beats me is that you could meet me
as usual, as if nothing had come between us, take my hand and yet
believe all the time I was that sort of outsider."
"And now," exclaimed Carrissima, "you ask me to believe that not having
seen Bridget for weeks you went to her house and took her in your arms
against her will! But there! what is the use of going over it all
again? I feel immensely angry with Sybil. It is entirely her fault.
She promised faithfully never to say a word."
"You beg the question in a rather womanly way," said Mark.
"Well, what would you have?" cried Carrissima, flinging out her arms.
"I am a woman, you know. I dare say I am not always consistent, if
that's what you mean."
"I thought it best to come and see you," answered Mark, with a shrug.
"Oh yes, by far the best," said Carrissima, with a shiver.
With that he went away, and Carrissima sought her room, locking herself
in. She felt exceedingly angry with Sybil, and determined to write to
her before the day ended. As to Mark, it was true she had done him an
injustice, but his conduct appeared as difficult to explain as ever.
Nothing which he had said made it any more comprehensible, and the only
certainty seemed to be that a man could not conceivably love one woman
and kiss another!