PAGE 9
The Story in It
by
“Ah, then, I give you up!”
And Mrs. Dyott conformed, for the rest of Maud’s stay, to the spirit of this speech. It was made on a Saturday night, and Mrs. Blessingbourne remained till the Wednesday following, an interval during which, as the return of fine weather was confirmed by the Sunday, the two ladies found a wider range of action. There were drives to be taken, calls made, objects of interest seen, at a distance; with the effect of much easy talk and still more easy silence. There had been a question of Colonel Voyt’s probable return on the Sunday, but the whole time passed without a sign from him, and it was merely mentioned by Mrs. Dyott, in explanation, that he must have been suddenly called, as he was so liable to be, to town. That this in fact was what had happened he made clear to her on Thursday afternoon, when, walking over again late, he found her alone. The consequence of his Sunday letters had been his taking, that day, the 4. 15. Mrs. Voyt had gone back on Thursday, and he now, to settle on the spot the question of a piece of work begun at his place, had rushed down for a few hours in anticipation of the usual collective move for the week’s end. He was to go up again by the later train, and had to count a little—a fact accepted by his hostess with the hard pliancy of practice—his present happy moments. Too few as these were, however, he found time to make of her an inquiry or two not directly bearing on their situation. The first was a recall of the question for which Mrs. Blessingbourne’s entrance on the previous Saturday had arrested the answer. Did that lady know of anything between them?
“No. I’m sure. There’s one thing she does know,” Mrs. Dyott went on; “but it’s quite different and not so very wonderful. ”
“What, then, is it?”
“Well, that she’s herself in love. ”
Voyt showed his interest. “You mean she told you?”
“I got it out of her. ”
He showed his amusement. “Poor thing! And with whom?”
“With you. ”
His surprise, if the distinction might be made, was less than his wonder. “You got that out of her too?”
“No—it remains in. Which is much the best way for it. For you to know it would be to end it. ”
He looked rather cheerfully at sea. “Is that then why you tell me?”
“I mean for her to know you know it. Therefore it’s in your interest not to let her. ”
“I see,” Voyt after a moment returned. “Your real calculation is that my interest will be sacrificed to my vanity—so that, if your other idea is just, the flame will in fact, and thanks to her morbid conscience, expire by her taking fright at seeing me so pleased. But I promise you,” he declared, “that she sha’n’t see it. So there you are!” She kept her eyes on him and had evidently to admit, after a little, that there she was. Distinct as he had made the case, however, he was not yet quite satisfied. “Why are you so sure that I’m the man?”
“From the way she denies you. ”
“You put it to her?”
“Straight. If you hadn’t been she would, of course, have confessed to you—to keep me in the dark about the real one. ”
Poor Voyt laughed out again. “Oh, you dear souls!”
“Besides,” his companion pursued, “I was not in want of that evidence. ”
“Then what other had you?”
“Her state before you came—which was what made me ask you how much you had seen her. And her state after it,” Mrs. Dyott added. “And her state,” she wound up, “while you were here. ”