‘And well he may be, for there is not a prettier nor sweeter girl on all the islands. Well, my dear, De Courcelles must go, there is no doubt of that, unless, indeed, he will marry Lizzie Fellows. That would put a stop to all unpleasantness at once.’
‘Marry Lizzie Fellows!’ echoed Mrs Courtney; ‘what, after he has been in love with our Quita! Well, I should be very much surprised if he could do that.’
‘But he was engaged to her (as you say), or nearly so. Poor Fellows told me as much himself. And it would be but reasonable for De Courcelles to settle down. He can’t have Maraquita, that’s quite certain, and he might do worse than fulfil his word to poor Lizzie.’
‘What, after she has disgraced herself?’
‘My dear, are you certain she has disgraced herself? She assured me most solemnly that child was not her own, and had nothing to do with her, and I have never known Lizzie tell a lie. It is as incomprehensible to me as it is to you, and I cannot understand my old friend Fellows leaving the poor girl in such a painful position. Still, you must not forget that I have been just as true to him as Lizzie evidently is to some other person; and we should be the last people to disbelieve her word, because she is unable to give us any further explanation of it.’
Mrs Courtney had greatly fidgeted and changed colour under her husband’s kindly pleading.
‘Oh, Mr Courtney, I really have no patience with you! Do you honestly think any woman would incur such a public disgrace, without making an effort to clear her character? I questioned Lizzie closely myself only yesterday, and she refused to open her lips, even to me, who have known her from a baby. It is quite incredible, and there is only one solution of the mystery—that she pretends to possess this stern sense of honour, in order to hide her want of it.’
‘Is it possible that De Courcelles can be the father of this child?’ said Mr Courtney musingly, hitting the right nail on the head without knowing it.
‘I daresay he is! I shouldn’t be surprised at anything I might hear of Monsieur de Courcelles.’
‘Well, my dear, I suppose he must go,’ returned her husband, with a sigh; ‘and I will speak to him as soon as ever you have left the White House. I cannot have Maraquita annoyed; and indeed if he has behaved shabbily to poor Lizzie, it is not right he should continue to live in her sight. So you may consider that matter settled.’