Erskine threw discredit on her word in this particular matter; he sniffed an extravagant remorse.
"Talk of hitting a man when he's down!" exclaimed Tiny miserably. "I hit Lady Dromard when the tears were in her eyes, and Lord Manister when he was hitting himself. He took it splendidly. He is a gentleman. I don't care what else he is—lord or no lord, he would always be a perfect gentleman. What's more, I am very sorry for him."
"Why on earth be sorry for him?" asked Erskine with a touch of irritation; for when Tiny spoke of Lady Dromard's tears, her own eyes swam with them; and to do a thing like this and start crying over it the moment it was done seemed to Erskine a bad sign. The event was so very fresh, and so entirely contrary to his own most recent apprehensions, that at present his only feeling in the matter was one of profound satisfaction. But the symptoms she showed of relenting already interfered not a little with that satisfaction, while, even more than by the remark that had prompted his question, he was alarmed by her answer to it:
"Because I believe he does care for me, a little bit, in his own way—or he thinks he does, which comes to the same thing; and because, when all's said and done, I have treated him like a little fiend!"
"My good girl!" said Holland uneasily, "I should remember how he treated you."
"Ah, no," answered Christina, shaking her head; "I have remembered that far too long as it is. That's ancient history."
"Well, be sorry for him if you like; be sorry for yourself as well."
That was the best advice that occurred to him at the moment, but it set her off at a tangent.
"I should think I am sorry for myself—I should be sorry for any girl who could so far forget herself!" cried Christina, speaking bitterly and at a great pace. "Shall I tell you the sort of thing I said? When I told him I could not possibly believe in his really caring for me, after the way in which he left Melbourne without so much as saying good-by to me or sending me word that he was going, he said it wasn't then he really loved me, but now. So I told him I was sorry to hear it, as in my case it might perhaps have been then, but it certainly wasn't now. I actually said that! Then Lady Dromard spoke up. She had been staring at me without a word, but she spoke up now, and it served me right. I can't blame her for being indignant, but she didn't say half she could have said, and it was more what she implied that sticks and stings. It didn't sting then, though; I was thinking of all the talk out there. It was when Lord Manister stopped her, and held out his hand to me and said, 'Anyway you forgive me now? I thought you had forgiven me'—it was then I began to tingle. I said I forgave him, of course; and then I bolted. But I was sorry for him, and I am sorry for him, whatever you say, for I had cut him to the heart.... And he looked most awfully nice the whole time!"
With these frivolous last words there came a smile: the normal girl shone out for an instant, as the sun breaks through clouds; and Erskine took advantage of the gleam.