"No!" replied Mrs. Marsh with unnecessary violence, "I have no enemy. But I feel--I have a presentiment--that I am not long for this world. As an Italian you know I am bound to be superstitious."
"I should think the English part of your blood would revolt against such morbid nonsense. Again I say you are not plain with me."
"I am. How dare you talk to me so!" cried Mrs. Marsh furiously. "You are the one man I have met in this world of fools, other than that dead devil Carr. If I made a confidant of anyone it would be of you. But so far as I personally am concerned there is nothing to say. But Stephen--" she hesitated and fell to plucking restlessly at the coverlet.
"Well! You wish me to be his bear-leader? If he is willing, I am willing. A thousand a year is not to be despised. Moreover my conscience is perfectly clear as regards Miss Endicotte."
"I understand. If she loves you, marry her by all means! If Stephen is her choice, you must promise----"
"I promise nothing," said Herrick impatiently walking to and fro, "there is no necessity to promise. I am a man of honour. If Stephen and Miss Endicotte love one another I am the last man in the world to step between them. You know that."
"If I didn't I should not ask you to stop and look after him," said Mrs. Marsh cynically. "However, you complained of my want of confidence. I am going to amend that. Do you know why I want you to stay with Stephen."
"To make a man of him--so you said."
"That certainly, but it is something of an excuse. I also want you--and this is the main reason--to guard him."
"Against whom? What are you hinting at?" asked Herrick sharply.