"In that case I must ask you to be more explicit. I—we have a right to an explanation."
"Excuse me—I fail to see that any one has a right in a matter which concerns Miss Ingestre—Frau von Arnim, and myself alone."
"The matter concerns my nephew and us all."
Arnold smiled ironically.
"I regret that I cannot sympathise with your point of view," he said. "In any case, I have no explanation to offer."
There was a blank silence. It was the more marked because it followed on a sharp lightning-like exchange, kept within bounds of outward courtesy only by the education and upbringing of the conflicting personalities. Frau von Arnim, usually armed with a kindly wisdom which had sympathy for all sorts and conditions of men, was brought nearer to a display of uncontrolled anger than in all her life before. To her mind, Arnold had, unwittingly perhaps, cast a slur upon the credit of one who was a member of her family; and her family was Frau von Arnim's fetish. He had done so, moreover, without offering proof or justification, and the latter offences deepened his guilt, though their omission would not have shielded him from her enmity.
Arnold, on his side, saw a haughty, domineering woman who claimed the right to investigate a personal overwhelming calamity in which she had no share, and with which he could as yet only grapple in blind, half-incredulous pain. He disliked her instinctively, but also because he could not understand the motives and principles which governed her conduct towards himself. He continued speaking after a moment, and his irritation was so intense that it helped him to overcome, almost forget, his own misery.
"I think there is nothing more to be said," he observed, looking Frau von Arnim coldly in the face. "It seems I have blundered, and it is only right that I should bear the brunt of the consequences alone. I am sure you will agree with me that it will be best for this—what has passed between us—to be kept entirely to ourselves, to be forgotten. It can only bring trouble to others, and, as I have said, I am alone to blame."
In spite of everything, he was thinking of Nora, seeking to shield her from the results of his betrayal of a cruel duplicity.
Frau von Arnim was thinking of Wolff, and of the woman to whom he had entrusted his happiness—above all things, their name.