‘A mistake!’ whispered she; and gave a little choke.
There was nothing for the unhappy young man but instant candour. He plunged for it, his face going scarlet.
‘This is not the lady I expected.’
‘Eh!’ cried the governante violently—‘’Tis Mistress Joan Medley.’
‘I cannot help it,’ said Brion: ‘It is not she I thought. O, I am a humbled wretch, craving absolution! How the misconception arose I dare not think; some—some confusion in the name, belike; yet the blame shall be mine alone, and the full contrition. If I had had but one clue to the truth, I had not so come to shame myself, or insult an honoured lady to whose gracious condescension alone I am indebted for this interview. I entreat her to forgive me, and to permit me to withdraw from the presence I have offended, with a thousand apologies for a presumption which was never dreamed or purposed.’
The governante looked from one fallen face to the other, and an ineffable leer came into her own.
‘Well, well,’ said she: ‘You’re here; and there she is who knew and knows you not from Adam. What then? If a tree is sweet and fruitful, it may be loved without a name. She’s content, if you are, to accept you on your merits. Go to: Take what Fortune brings you, and make no words about it. There’s many a cross scent followed ends in tastier game than that that was first pursued and missed.’
Brion did not answer, but panic-struck he shook his head and made for the door. He was halted by a sudden screech, followed by a torrent of vituperation:—
‘Base and perfidious! How dare you, Trudy, how dare you, I say—to deal with me thus, to answer for me thus, before a common rogue and impostor, in whose face I had detected the low villainy even before he spoke. Content! His merits! I’d sooner touch a toad.’ Her shred of a body heaved and stormed, threatening to burst its laces; her face was a very spectre of rageful spite. ‘And you—to encourage him, that lewd and pernicious enormity—to let him to think I craved his base attentions—a common groom—I, I, that could choose among a hundred of his masters—I’ll have him followed and exposed. I’ll have him scourged at the cart-tail, while she looks on—the one he dared to think me—the one——’
She was gasping hysterically to an end. It came in a wind of tears, and she dropped into the chair by the hearth. Brion, appalled a moment, the next took his discretion in hand and bolted. He found his lantern yet burning, seized it, opened the door with agitated fingers, and, leaping into the night, closed it behind him. And then he ran—ran as if the devil were at his heels, and never stopped until he had reached the barge and jumped aboard.