"I could go away with her," she said, imploringly. "I could watch over her day and night. But let me put this thing straight now publicly. Indeed—indeed, it is time."
"You mean you wish to bring an action? In that case you would have to return to give evidence."
"Yes—for a short time. But that could be managed. She should never see the English papers—I could promise that."
"And what is to prevent Philip Meryon telling her? At present he is entirely ignorant of her parentage. I have convinced myself of that this morning. He has no dealings with the people here, nor they with him. What has been happening here has not reached him. And he is really off to-night. We must, of course, always take the risk of his knowing, and of his telling her. A libel action would convert that risk into a certainty. Would it not simply forward whatever designs he may have on her—for I do not believe for a moment he will abandon them—it will be a duel, rather, between him and us—would it not actually forward his designs—to tell her?"
Alice did not reply. She sat wringing her delicate hands in a silent desperation; while Catharine opposite was lost in the bewilderment of the situation—the insistence of the woman, the refusal of the man.
"My advice is this"—continued Meynell, still addressing Alice—"that you should take her to Paris tomorrow in my stead, and should stay near her for some months. Lady Fox-Wilton—whom I have just seen—she overtook me driving on the Markborough road half an hour ago, and we had some conversation—talks of taking a house at Tours for a year—an excellent thing—for them all. We don't want her on the spot any longer—we don't want any of them!" said the Rector, dismissing the Fox-Wilton family with an emphatic gesture which probably represented what he had gone through in the interview with Edith. … "In that way the thing will soon die down. There will be nobody here—nobody within reach—for the scoundrel who is writing these letters to attack—except, of course, myself—and I shall know how to deal with it. He will probably tire of the amusement. Other people will be ashamed of having read the letters and believed them. I even dare to hope that Mr. Barron—in time—may be ashamed."
Alice looked at him in tremulous despair.
"Nobody to attack!" she said—"nobody to attack! And you,
Richard—you?"
A dry smile flickered on his face.
"Leave that to me—I assure you you may leave it to me."