“Frankly, no,” said Barnabas. “I can’t understand your silence afterwards when it came to your desertion of his child. I have, though, no right to sit in judgment on anyone; and please understand that I’m not judging you. But I am quite sure that Luke would not take a lenient view. If he forgave at all—and I honestly doubt his forgiveness—duty would make him offer the child a home. In fact, he would probably insist on your having the child with you. But,” and Barnabas’ voice was firm, “he would never, forget. And, however strong his sense of duty, there would always be a barrier between him and the child. It would not be good for her. Also there is no question but that your husband’s confidence and happiness would be destroyed.” He stopped. He felt every word he had said. He was sorry for the woman, but Luke and Pippa could not be sacrificed, and to speak now would mean the sacrifice of both their lives.
“Then——?” asked Sybil, her eyes upon the ground.
“In my opinion,” said Barnabas, “having kept silence, you owe it to your husband to keep silence still; in fact, for ever. The child has a home now, and one who cares for her. For her sake, too, I do not think you should run the risk of taking her to a home where she would be unwelcome. She is extraordinarily sensitive. She would feel it now, and more as she grows older.”
Sybil looked towards the picture. It showed the child in three-quarter face. “But I want her now,” she said. “She looks such a darling.”
Barnabas suppressed a slight movement of impatience. Sybil’s sole thought was of herself and her own wants.
“Then you are prepared,” he asked, “to tell your husband everything? To lose his confidence and his love, and kill his happiness, and, quite possibly, have him to go away from you, merely making you an allowance. For he is quite as likely—and I believe more likely—to do that than accept the charge of the child. Which do you want most—your child whom you have never seen or your husband?”
“Oh, I want Luke,” said Sybil quickly. “At least, I think so.”
Barnabas felt considerably like shaking her. He was determined that if he could prevent it she should not spoil two lives. He had no belief in weak and tardy confessions that advantage no one. He made an appeal to her better self—if it existed.
“Then,” he said, “have the strength and courage to keep silence. Even if you do want your child now, have the pluck to renounce her for her sake and Luke’s. Remember, that payment of some kind is always demanded sooner or later for any debt we owe. This is your payment.”
Sybil looked silently towards Miss Mason.