"No," said Mrs. Payne slowly. "I've made up my mind. We must invent some plausible excuse. Illness will do … anything. And you must help me, if only for your own sake."
Desperate tears came into Gabrielle's eyes.
"For your own sake," Mrs. Payne repeated. "You've realised, I know, that if you go on with this unfortunate love-affair you must ruin not only your own happiness and your husband's, but Arthur's as well. If you love him at all you can't drag him into social ruin. Well, I've made my decision. If anything disastrous happens my blood's on my own head. We must make the best of a bad job. Don't think I'm not sorry for you, my dear."
This final tenderness was too much for Gabrielle. She broke down, sobbing so tragically in Mrs. Payne's arms that the older woman was almost ashamed of her victory. She knew that she could afford to be kind. She felt that she would like to tell her that under any other circumstances she knew none whom she would rather trust as Arthur's wife; but to say so would have been a bitter mockery. She waited in silence while Gabrielle mastered her own feelings and raised, at last, her haggard eyes.
"What can you say to my husband?" she said.
"We must say that I am ill. That will give you a good reason for returning."
"And Arthur?"
"The same reason will explain why he doesn't go back to Lapton on
Tuesday. After that I don't know what I shall do."
"But I can see him before I go?"
"That would be quite useless. It might even do harm. You are going to help me, you know, for his sake."