She answered him, with a certain reluctance, “Mademoiselle Klosking has taken into her head that Zoe will never return to this house while she is in it.”
“Who put that into her head, now?” said Vizard, bitterly.
“Nobody, upon my honor. A woman's instinct.”
“Well?”
“She is horrified at the idea of keeping your sister out of her own house, so she is getting well to go; and the strength of her will is such that she will get well.”
“All the better; but Zoe will soon get tired of Somerville Villa. A little persuasion will bring her home, especially if you were to offer to take her place.”
“Oh, I would do that, to oblige you, Harrington, if I saw any good at the end of it. But please think twice. How can Zoe and that lady ever stay under the same roof? How can they meet at your table, and speak to each other? They are rivals.”
“They are both getting cured, and neither will ever see the villain again.”
“I hope not; but who can tell? Well, never mind them. If their eyes are not opened by this time, they will get no pity from me. It is you I think of now.” Then, in a hesitating way, and her cheeks mantling higher and higher with honest blushes—“You have suffered enough already from women. I know it is not my business, but it does grieve me to see you going into trouble again. What good can come of it? Her connection with that man, so recent, and so—strange. The world will interpret its own way. Your position in the county—every eye upon you. I see the way in—no doubt it is strewed with flowers; but I see no way out. Be brave in time, Harrington. It will not be the first time. She must be a good woman, somehow, or faces, eyes and voices, and ways, are all a lie. But if she is good, she is very unfortunate; and she will give you a sore heart for life, if you don't mind. I'd clinch my teeth and shut my eyes, and let her go in time.”
Vizard groaned aloud, and at that a tear or two rolled down Fanny's burning cheeks.