The mother's heart hardened; Mrs. Kemp was no gossip, but she knew how much time Oliver had spent at the Priory during the fortnight Mrs. Boringdon had been away.
"Yes, she must be rather lonely," and then she could not help adding, "but you are a great deal over there, are you not?"
His answer made her feel ashamed of what she had said. "I am over there most days, but she cannot make a companion, a friend, of a man, as she could of you or of Lucy." Now surely was his opportunity for saying what he had come to say, but he found the task he had set himself demanded a bluntness, a crudity of speech, that was almost intolerable to him.
"Mrs. Kemp, may I speak frankly to you?"
There was a strong note of appeal in the speaker's voice. Mrs. Kemp gave him a quick, anxious look, and took her knitting off the table. "Certainly, frankness is always best," she said, then wondered with beating heart what he was about to tell her. She had felt, during the last few minutes, that Boringdon was only marking time. He was once more on his old terms of friendship with Lucy, indeed, the girl had lunched at Chancton Cottage that very day. But his next words shattered Mrs. Kemp's dream, and that most rudely.
"I want you to call on Mrs. Rebell," he was saying in a low eager tone, "and to come really to know her, because—well, because I fear she is in some danger. It isn't a matter one wants to discuss, but James Berwick is constantly at the Priory, and his visits there are already being talked about in the neighbourhood. She is, as you know, a friend of my sister, and I feel a certain responsibility in the matter. Someone ought to put her on her guard."
Mrs. Kemp put down her work and looked at him with a steady, disconcerting look of surprise. He no longer felt sure, as he had done a moment ago, of her sympathy, but he met her glance with a dogged courage. He cared so little what she thought; the great point was to enlist her help. Boringdon had known her do really quixotic things with reference to certain village matters and scandals—and always with healing results.
It is fortunate that we cannot see into each other's minds. What would Oliver have felt had he become aware of the feeling, half of dislike, half of pity, with which he was being regarded at that moment by the woman to whom he had made his appeal? Mrs. Kemp withdrew her eyes from his face; it was possible,—just possible,—that it was as he said, and that he was animated by worthy and impersonal motives. Berwick was not a man with an absolutely good reputation as regarded women; his position, too, was a singular one,—of so much even Mrs. Kemp was aware.
"As you have spoken frankly to me, so will I speak frankly to you," she said. "I have never known any good come from interfering,—or rather I have never known any good come from speaking, in such a case, to the woman. The person to reach is Mr. Berwick. If he is indeed compromising Mrs. Rebell, he is doing a very wrong and treacherous thing, not only to her, but to Madame Sampiero, who has always been, so I understand, especially kind to him. Still, you must remember that, long before this lady came here, he was constantly at the Priory. Also, may I say that, if your information as to the gossip about them comes from Miss Vipen, its source is tainted? I never believe a word she says about anything or anybody!"
"Miss Vipen did certainly say something—she had heard——"