“I am in such a difficult position,” she said. “I think I ought to let it be understood that there is no truth whatever in such an idea, however much truth there may be. And did dear Mr. Wyse believe—in fact, I know he must have, for he wrote me, oh, such a delicate, understanding note. He, at any rate, takes no notice of all that is being said and hinted.”
Miss Mapp was momentarily conscious that she meant precisely the opposite of this. Dear Mr. Wyse did take notice, most respectful notice, of all that was being said and hinted, thank goodness! But a glance at Mrs. Poppit’s fat and interested face showed her that the verbal discrepancy had gone unnoticed, and that the luscious flavour of romance drowned the perception of anything else. She drew a handkerchief out, and buried her thoughtful eyes in it a moment, rubbing them with a stealthy motion, which Mrs. Poppit did not perceive, though Diva would have.
“My lips are sealed,” she continued, opening them very wide, “and I can say nothing, except that I want this rumour to be contradicted. I daresay those who started it thought it was true, but, true or false, I must say nothing. I have always led a very quiet life in my little house, with my sweet flowers for my companions, and if there is one thing more than another that I dislike, it is that my private affairs should be made matters of public interest. I do no harm to anybody, I wish everybody well, and nothing—nothing will induce me to open my lips upon this subject. I will not,” cried Miss Mapp, ”say a word to defend or justify myself. What is true will prevail. It comes in the Bible.”
Mrs. Poppit was too much interested in what she said to mind where it came from.
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Contradict, dear, the rumour that I have had anything to do with the terrible thing which might have happened last week. Say on my authority that it is so. I tremble to think”—here she trembled very much—“what might happen if the report reached Major Benjy’s ears, and he found out who had started it. We must have no more duels in Tilling. I thought I should never survive that morning.”
“I will go and tell Mr. Wyse instantly—dear,” said Mrs. Poppit.
That would never do. True believers were so scarce that it was wicked to think of unsettling their faith.
“Poor Mr. Wyse!” said Miss Mapp with a magnanimous smile. “Do not think, dear, of troubling him with these little trumpery affairs. He will not take part in these little tittle-tattles. But if you could let dear Diva and quaint Irene and sweet Evie and the good Padre know that I laugh at all such nonsense——”
“But they laugh at it, too,” said Mrs. Poppit.