“She wants to take hold of the great question of material misery; she wants to do something to make that misery less. I don’t care for her means, I don’t like her processes. But when I think of what there is to be done, and of the courage and devotion of those that set themselves to do it, it seems to me sometimes that with my reserves and scruples I’m a very poor creature.”
“You are a poor creature—to sit there and put such accusations on yourself!” the girl flashed out. “If you haven’t a spirit for yourself, I promise you I’ve got one for you! If she hasn’t chucked you over why in the name of common sense did you say just now that she has? And why is your dear old face as white as my stocking?”
Hyacinth looked at her awhile without answering, as if he took a placid pleasure in her violence. “I don’t know—I don’t understand.”
She put out her hand and took possession of his own; for a minute she held it, as if she wished to check herself, finding some influence in his touch that would help her. They sat in silence, looking at the ornamental water and the landscape-gardening beyond, which was reflected in it; until Millicent turned her eyes again upon her companion and remarked, “Well, that’s the way I’d have served him too!”
It took him a moment to perceive that she was alluding to the vengeance wrought upon Lord Frederick. “Don’t speak of that; you’ll never again hear a word about it on my lips. It’s all darkness.”
“I always knew you were a gentleman,” the girl went on.
“A queer variety, cara mia,” her companion rejoined, not very candidly, as we know the theories he himself had cultivated on this point. “Of course you had heard poor Pinnie’s incurable indiscretions. They used to exasperate me when she was alive, but I forgive her now. It’s time I should, when I begin to talk myself. I think I’m breaking up.”
“Oh, it wasn’t Miss Pynsent; it was just yourself.”
“Pray, what did I ever say, in those days?”
“It wasn’t what you said,” Millicent answered, with refinement. “I guessed the whole business—except, of course, what she got her time for, and you being taken to that death-bed—that day I came back to the Place. Couldn’t you see I was turning it over? And did I ever throw it up at you, whatever high words we might have had? Therefore what I say now is no more than I thought then; it only makes you nicer.”