“Richard,” said Miss Pinckney, “Seth Grangerson is as well as you are. I didn’t go to see him because he was ill, I went because of Phyl. She did a stupid thing and I went to set matters right.”
She explained the whole affair. How Phyl had met Silas, how he had persuaded her to get into the phaëton with him, the accident and all the rest. The story as told by Miss Pinckney was quite simple and without any dark patches, and no man, one might fancy, could find cause for offence in it.
Miss Pinckney, however, was quite unconscious of the fact that Silas Grangerson had attempted to take Richard Pinckney’s life on the night of the Rhetts’ dance.
To Richard the thought that Phyl should have met Silas only a few hours after that event, talked to him, made friends with him, and got into his carriage was a monstrous thought. He could not understand the business in the least, he could only recognise the fact.
Had he known that it was her love for him and her despair at losing him that led her to the act it would have been different.
He said nothing for a moment after Miss Pinckney had finished. Having already confessed to her his love for Phyl he was too proud to show his anger against her now.
“It was unwise of her,” he said at last, turning away to the window and looking out.
“Most,” replied she, “but you cannot put old heads on young shoulders. Well, there, it’s over and done with and there’s no more to be said. Well, I must go up and change before luncheon. You are having luncheon here?”
“No,” said he, “I have to meet a man at the club. I only just ran in to see if you were back.”
He went off and that day Miss Pinckney and Phyl had luncheon alone.