But Franklin got up. This poisonous collection of sniggering words made him see red. Oh, God, for five minutes with that fat brute York! He walked up and down, watched with grim satisfaction by the family, especially by Mr. Vanderdyke, who poked himself up on his elbow and with a flush on his face and an eager light in his pale eyes saw in that tall, wiry, sun-burned man all the symptoms of an overwhelming desire for the sort of physical vengeance in which he himself would never be able to indulge.
Franklin got himself under control, stood in front of the fireplace and asked himself what he was going to do. The moment had come when he could get free of the girl who tortured his lonely hours and compelled his adoration and was further away than Heaven. In a few words he could give her people, who deserved most of the blame, the story of the result of spoiling. Should he seize it? Should he cut loose from an empty tie and become his own master again? Once, at school, he had been summoned before the Head Master to give evidence against Malcolm Fraser, who had broken bounds. He had lied through his teeth to save his friend. Under the eyes of these people the feeling came back to him and pervaded him like a perfume that he was standing again in the sanctum of that stern, old task-master. Not for a friend this time, not for a man who could take his punishment and grin, but for a girl who would be stained in the sight of unbelievers, the girl of all living girls whom he loved beyond words and whom, under any circumstances, he must hold, he would lie himself black in the face to defend. That was settled. It was almost laughable to have supposed that there had been any other solution. He turned. There was a curious smile in his eyes. "What is your proposition?" he asked.
Aunt Honoria took a sheet of note paper from the little table at her elbow. There was something about this man Franklin that reminded her of the one who had taken her heart with him beyond the outpost of eternity. With some difficulty she steadied her voice. "When we first read that paragraph with its abominable suggestiveness," she said, "we had no intention of being drawn into making a statement. We agreed that it would be undignified. But since then, having talked of nothing else, we have come to the conclusion that we must send something to the leading papers. What we suggest is this, if it meets with your approval."
"Please read it." He noticed that Beatrix was opening and closing her hands as though she had pins and needles.
"My brother drew this up and he left the spaces for you to fill in, Pelham." Aunt Honoria then read the statement which her brother had written and re-written at least a dozen times. "'From the recent account of the romantic and closely-guarded marriage of Miss Beatrix Vanderdyke and Mr. Pelham Franklin published by us we omitted to give the name of the church in which it was celebrated and the date of the ceremony. 'The Church was —— and the date ——.' All you have to do is to fill in the facts and I will send the necessary copies to town to-night by messenger. If this doesn't put an end to letters and paragraphs we must then claim the protection of the law."
Franklin took the sheet of paper. All he had to do was to fill in the facts! Ye Gods, what was he to do with the thing? He glanced at Beatrix. She still seemed to be half frozen. No help was to be had from her. He must put forward a good objection and a good alternative at once. "I think that your first idea was the right one," he said. "This statement is a confession of weakness. I want you, if you will, to leave the whole thing to me. I know the man who's written those letters. It will give me immense pleasure to deal with him. One visit to the office of that paper will settle the editor's hash." He spoke with all the confidence that he could master and smiled at the three Vanderdykes, who seemed to hang on his words. "And, after all, this is entirely my affair. Beatrix is my wife and it is for me and no one else to protect her."
Beatrix, now fully alive, sprang to her feet. "No," she said, "it's not your affair. It's mine, and it's for me to put an end to it."
All eyes were turned on her,—the Vanderdykes' with some surprise. Franklin's with quick apprehension. She was going to give the show away, he saw. At all costs she must be stopped. With what he tried to make a newly-married smile he took her hand and scrunched it so that she nearly screamed with pain. "There's going to be a friendly argument between us," he said. "Would you permit us to conduct it out in the air?" And before another word could be said by anybody he put his arm around Beatrix's waist, controlled her to one of the open French windows and out under the sky.
"What do you mean by this?" she cried angrily.
He held her tight. "You were going to give yourself away."