“No doubt it has been almost forgotten,” the other continued, “but John’s coming must naturally have revamped the old story. What was it about—the quarrel? A love-affair?”
“I—I don’t think it is known.”
But reluctant coldness did not deter the questioner. “Who was it said there was a petticoat back of every ancient war?” quoted Katharine, lightly. “I fancy it’s the same with the duello. But how strange that nobody knows. Some of the older ones must, don’t you think?”
“It’s so long ago,” murmured Shirley. “I suppose some could tell if they would.”
“Major Bristow, perhaps,” conjectured Katharine thoughtfully.
“He was one of the seconds,” admitted Shirley unhappily. “But by common consent that side of it wasn’t talked of at the time. Men in Virginia have old-fashioned ideas about women....”
“Ah, it’s fine of them!” pæaned Katharine. “I can imagine the men who knew about that dreadful affair, in their Southern chivalry, drawing a cordon of silence about the name of that girl with her broken heart! For if she loved one of the two, it must have been Sassoon—not Valiant, else he would have stayed. How terrible to see one’s lover killed in such a way.... It was quickly ended for him, but the poor woman was left to bear it all the years! She may be living yet, here maybe, some one whom everybody knows. I suppose I am imaginative,” she added, “but I can’t help wondering about her. I fancy she would never wholly get over it, never be able to forget him, though she tried.”
Shirley made some reply that was lost in the whirring wheels. The other’s words seemed almost an echo of what she herself had been thinking.
“Maybe she married after a while, too. A woman must make a life for herself, you know. If she lives here, it will be sad for her, this opening of the old wound by John’s coming.... And looking so like his father—”
Katharine paused. There was a kind of exhilaration in this subtle baiting. Determined as she was that Shirley should guess at the truth before that ride ended, bludgeon-wielding was not to her taste. She preferred the keen needle-point that injected its poison before the thrust was even felt. She waited, wondering just how much it would be necessary for her to say.