“Improper! It might be fatal!”
“I cannot suppose that either would be so stupid.”
“Not Ulverston, no! But Martin! In such anger! How can you tell what he might do?”
“You are right: I can’t tell,” owned Miss Morville, dispassionately considering it. “Well, there is nothing for it but to put a stop to a duel — if that is indeed what they intend, and I daresay it may be, for gentlemen have such nonsensical notions that one may believe them to be capable of any folly.”
“Oh, if one could but prevent it! But they will tell us nothing, for females should never know anything about such things! They would dislike it so very much, if one attempted to interfere in a matter of honour!”
“I am not in the least concerned with what they may dislike,” replied Miss Morville somewhat tartly. “What I am thinking of is how excessively disagreeable it would be for you and the Frants to have such a scandal in your midst. Do let me beg of you, my dear Marianne, not to mention what has occurred to another soul! There will be no duel, if I have to lay an information against them both to prevent it.”
Marianne looked as though she hardly knew whether to be relieved or scandalized. “Oh, that would be dreadful!”
“You need not be alarmed: I am persuaded there will be no need to proceed to such an extreme.”
Her air of assurance had its effect. Marianne dried her tears, and was soothed. By the time she had tidied her ruffled ringlets, and folded up her shawl, she was calm enough to descend the stairs to the saloon, where Ulverston and Theo were chatting to Sir Thomas and his lady.
There was nothing to be learned from the Viscount’s manner, but Miss Morville thought that Theo was looking grave. Of Martin there was no sign, and since the Bolderwoods did not mention him she supposed that he must have left Whissenhurst without seeing them.