Part 11 (2/2)
Lydia was silent.
At length she said, with a kind of reluctance, ”She was horribly angry when she left me. It wouldn't have taken long to tell Lady Susan Condit.”
”Lady Susan Condit has not been told.”
”How do you know?”
”Because when I went downstairs half an hour ago I met Lady Susan on the way--”
He stopped, half smiling.
”Well?”
”And she stopped to ask if I thought you would act as patroness to a charity concert she is getting up.”
In spite of themselves they both broke into a laugh. Lydia's ended in sobs and she sank down with her face hidden. Gannett bent over her, seeking her hands.
”That vile woman--I ought to have warned you to keep away from her; I can't forgive myself! But he spoke to me in confidence; and I never dreamed--well, it's all over now.”
Lydia lifted her head.
”Not for me. It's only just beginning.”
”What do you mean?”
She put him gently aside and moved in her turn to the window. Then she went on, with her face turned toward the s.h.i.+mmering blackness of the lake, ”You see of course that it might happen again at any moment.”
”What?”
”This--this risk of being found out. And we could hardly count again on such a lucky combination of chances, could we?”
He sat down with a groan.
Still keeping her face toward the darkness, she said, ”I want you to go and tell Lady Susan--and the others.”
Gannett, who had moved towards her, paused a few feet off.
”Why do you wish me to do this?” he said at length, with less surprise in his voice than she had been prepared for.
”Because I've behaved basely, abominably, since we came here: letting these people believe we were married--lying with every breath I drew--”
”Yes, I've felt that too,” Gannett exclaimed with sudden energy.
The words shook her like a tempest: all her thoughts seemed to fall about her in ruins.
”You--you've felt so?”
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