"Then you will know what you are worth to him." Gabrielle's tone was almost scornful. "You see how it stands," she continued. "We both of us want him for ourselves, we want him as he is to-day … and we can't either of us have him without the other's consent. You hold his body, and I hold his soul. Let's be reasonable. Let's compromise. I'm ready to do my part. Oh, I beg you to be reasonable!"
"You're a devil, not a woman," said Mrs. Payne.
"But you see that I'm right?" Gabrielle persisted.
Mrs. Payne summoned all her strength. "No, I don't. I don't believe it."
"Ah, you pretend that you don't! But you're bluffing me. I know it. Why did you come to me about this instead of to Arthur himself? Because you were afraid. That was the reason."
The shot was made at a venture, but Gabrielle quickly saw that it had taken effect. She followed it up:
"You thought that if you upset him he might lose what he's gained. You don't know—we none of us know yet—how deep the change is. You didn't dare to face that little risk; but it's nothing compared with the one you want to take now. That's what you've got to face!"
She could say no more. When she stopped speaking Mrs. Payne knew that the girl's eyes were fixed on her eagerly, desperately, trying to search into her mind. The older woman stood there still and bewildered by the choice that had been presented to her. It was the most awful moment in her emotional life. Her mind was a battlefield on which her love, her sense of right, her acquired conventions, her religion, and her hungry maternal passion were pitted against one formidable dread. She wanted to shield Arthur against harm: from a social disaster no less than from what she considered a mortal sin; and, above all, after these years of patient suffering, she wanted him for herself. It was neither religion nor morality that drove her to her final decision, but a thing far stronger: her passionate instinct to possess the son of her body. Even if she were to lose him, to rescue no more than the changeling that she had always known, she could not bring herself to share him with any other woman on earth. He was hers and hers alone. She did not know if she were right. She did not care if she were wrong. The decision formed itself inexorably in her mind. She could only obey it. Gabrielle, watching her narrowly, saw a sudden peace descend upon her agonised face. Mrs. Payne gave a long shuddering sigh. Then she spoke, dully, mechanically:
"The train goes at seven-fifty. I will order the carriage. I will write to Dr. Considine in the morning."
Gabrielle clutched at her breast. "You can't realise what you're doing!
It's too great a risk. Think of it again … I beg you!"