December Love Part 102

"What danger?"

"It was possible that you might disregard my request and show my letter.

I felt practically certain you wouldn't, but you might have done so."

"And if I had?"

"If you had--then--but I only tell you this to prove that in this instance I was trying to be a friend to you."

"If I had shown this letter, or if I were to show it to Mr. Arabian he might bring an action for libel on it, I should think."

"I dare say he could do that."

"Well--but if you could justify!"

"But I couldn't!"

"You couldn't! You write me a libel about a friend of mine which you yourself say you couldn't justify!"

"I can't bear to hear you speak of that man as your friend."

"He is my friend. I like him very much indeed. And I know him, have known him for weeks, while you tell me you don't know him. I shall venture to set my knowledge, my personal knowledge, against your ignorance, Adela, and to go on with my friends.h.i.+p. But you need not be afraid." She smiled contemptuously. "I will not show Mr. Arabian this cruel letter which you yourself say you couldn't justify."

As she spoke she returned the letter to her m.u.f.f, which was lying on a table beside her.

"Well," she added, "I don't know that there is anything more I need say.

I came here to have it out with you. That is my way, perhaps an American way, of doing things. We don't care for underhand dealings. We like things fair and square."

She got up.

"You have your way of doing things and we have ours! I'll tell you what mine would have been, Adela, if the situation had been reversed. I should not have written at all. I should have come to see you, and if I had had some grave, hideous charge to make I should have made it, and fully explained my reasons for making it to you. I should have put you in the same state of complete knowledge as I was in. That is my idea of friends.h.i.+p and fair dealing. But you think otherwise. So what is the good of our arguing any more about the matter?"

Lady Sellingworth was still sitting. For a moment she did not move, but remained where she was looking up at the girl. Just then she was a.s.sailed by a fierce temptation. After all, had not she done her part?

Had not she done all that anyone could expect from her, from any woman under the existing circ.u.mstances? Had not she done even much more than many women could have brought themselves to do? Beryl had not been very kind to her. Beryl was really the enemy of her happiness, of her poor little attempt after happiness. And yet she had taken a risk in order to try and save Beryl from danger. And the girl would not be saved.

Headstrong, wilful, embittered, she refused to be saved. Then why not let her go? She had been warned. She chose to defy the warning. That was not Lady Sellingworth's fault.

"I've done enough! I've done all I can do."

She said this to herself as she sat and looked at the girl.

"I can't do any more!"

Miss Van Tuyn reached out for her coat and began very deliberately to put it on. Then she picked up the m.u.f.f in which the letter lay hidden.

"Well, good night, Adela!"

Lady Sellingworth got up slowly.

"I promise that I will not show your letter. So don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid."

Miss Van Tuyn held out her hand.

"No doubt you have your reasons for doing what you have done. I don't pretend to understand them. And I don't understand you. But women are often incomprehensible to me. Perhaps that is why I usually prefer men.

They don't plunge you in subtleties. They let you understand things."

"Ah!" exclaimed Lady Sellingworth.

And there was a pa.s.sion of acute irony in the exclamation.

"What's the matter?" said Miss Van Tuyn, looking surprised, almost startled.

But Lady Sellingworth did not tell her.

"If you will go like this, Beryl--go!" she said. "I cannot force you to do, or not to do, anything. But"--she laid a hand on the girl's arm and pressed it till her hand almost hurt Beryl--"but I tell you that you are in danger, in great danger. I dread to think of what may be in store for you."

Something in the grasp of her hand, in her manner, in her eyes, impressed Miss Van Tuyn in spite of herself. Again fear, a fear mysterious and cold, crept in her. Garstin had warned her in his way. Now Adela was warning her. And she remembered that other warning whispered by something within herself. She stood still looking into Lady Sellingworth's eyes. Then she looked down. She seemed to be considering something. At last she looked up again and said:

"You said to me to-night that you did not know Mr. Arabian--now."

"I don't know him."

"But have you known him? Did you know him long ago?"

"I have never known him."

"Then I don't understand. And--and I will not act in ignorance. It isn't fair to expect me to do that."

"I have done all that I can do," said Lady Sellingworth, with a sort of despair, taking her hand from the girl's arm.

"Very well."

Beryl moved and went slowly towards the door. Lady Sellingworth stood looking after her. She thought the hideous interview was over. But she did not know Beryl even yet, did not realize even yet the pa.s.sionate force of curiosity which possessed Beryl at this moment. When the girl was not far from the door, and when Lady Sellingworth was reaching out her hand to touch the bell in order that the footman might know that her visitor was leaving her, Beryl turned round.

"Adela!" she said.

"Yes. What is it?"

"Perhaps you think that I have been very persistent to-night, that I have almost cross-examined you."

"I don't blame you. It is natural that you wished to know more."

"Yes, it is natural, because Mr. Arabian wants me to marry him."

"To marry him!"

Lady Sellingworth started forward impulsively.

"Marry? He wants--you--you--"