Much had happened in a very little time, but to the last a fine tactician, Charlotte had contrived to keep her head. She was in the presence of calamity, she had met a blow that would have broken a weaker person in pieces, but already a line of action was formed in her mind. One thing alone could save them, and that the continued goodwill of the woman they had so long misjudged and traduced.
“Mrs. Sanderson”—she used the old name unconsciously—“we owe you a great deal.” It was not easy to make the admission, even if common justice rather than policy called for it. “I hope now you will let us add to the debt.”
The Duke was forced to admire the dignity and the directness of the appeal. He knew how hard she had been hit. But that was not all. Marking his sister’s tone, intently watching her grim face, he saw how completely her attitude had changed. The other woman had conquered, but in spite of all he had suffered at the hands of Charlotte, it was difficult not to feel a certain respect as well as a certain pity for her in the hour of her defeat.
By this, Harriet, too, had become mistress of herself. She, also, had suffered much, but she had never played for victory, and she was very far from the thought of it now. “I have but one wish,” she said.
“And that is?” His tone was strangely gentle for her voice had failed suddenly.
“To do what is right.”
The simplicity of the words held them silent. Brother and sister looked at her with a kind of awe in their eyes. It was as if another world had opened to their rather bewildered gaze.
“I want to do right to those who have been so good to me, and to my father and my grandfather before me.”
Somehow that speech, gentleness itself, yet sharp as a sword, brought the blood to Lady Wargrave’s face. In a flash she saw and felt the justification of her brother’s amazing deed. This devoted woman in her selflessness held the master key to life and Fate; in a flash of insight she saw that groundlings and grovelers like themselves were powerless before it. Somehow those words, that bearing, solved the mystery. She could no longer blame her brother; he had been caught in the toils of an irresistible force.
“Mrs. Sanderson”—there was reverence now in the harsh voice—“you are the best judge of what is right. We are content to leave the matter to your discretion.” Even if the accomplished tactician was uppermost in Charlotte’s words, in the act of uttering them was a large rather noble simplicity.