Mary turned away, sore and helpless and sick at heart. She, who despised tears so heartily in others, felt like bursting into hysterical weeping now. The humiliation was almost more than she could bear. She would have welcomed any calamity that was likely to overwhelm the old house and lay it in grey ashes at her feet. Fiercely, angrily, she grasped her father by the arm and led him from the room. Sir George trotted along feebly, muttering in a small voice. He was as useless as a woman in a storm at sea. He sat down in the library with his hands folded in his lap, and looked anxiously for any suggestion from Mary.
"Is there nothing you can do?" she demanded impatiently. Could this feeble, white-faced creature be the same jaunty, debonnaire figure that had been so popular in the Paris salons? Mary asked herself. "Is there no way out of the difficulty?"
"I--I am afraid not," Sir George stammered. "I am so dazed and confused that I can think of nothing. Most unfortunate that business about Lady Dashwood and the diamonds. Wonder what she has done with them. Very selfish of her."
Mary suppressed a desire to scream. Ralph Darnley flashed into her mind suddenly, and she wondered why. Anyway she could not ask him to help her, even if he had the means to do so. She had repelled his advances more or less scornfully, and one does not borrow money from a man in conditions like that.
"Lady Dashwood is powerless to help us," she said with an effort. "Unless I am greatly mistaken, she has a sorrow far deeper than ours----"
"Impossible," Sir George said testily. "You are talking nonsense, my dear. What blow could be heavier or harder to bear than ours? But I trust that we shall meet it with proper dignity. Nothing can deprive us of our dignity."
Mary laughed aloud. The echo of her mirth came back mockingly in the silence and almost frightened her. Heavens! was it possible that Sir George had no idea of the pitiable figure he presented at that moment? He went on to suggest fortitude and calmness. He had heard of the same thing happening in the castle of a duke. Worse things had taken place in the chateaux of the aristocracy in the French Revolution.
"Ay, but they knew how to live and die like gentlefolk," Mary said bitterly. "I understand that you are going to sit down and tamely submit to this thing?"
"My dearest child, how impetuous you are! There is nothing else to do. By the end of the week I shall have more than enough for all my needs. Still I think, I think that there is a way to get out of the difficulty, without anybody being any the wiser. The remedy, however, lies in your hands. Of course, it requires a certain amount of self-sacrifice on your part. I am bound to confess that I could desire other channels for the amelioration of the situation. Still, as I said before----"
The voice was cringing and fawning; there was something mean and furtive on Sir George's face as he spoke his polished periods. A certain sickness of heart gripped Mary; she was conscious of a sensation of absolute fear.