“No, I cannot do that. I will not meddle in your affairs any more. I will never place myself again in such a position that I can be accused of making love to any woman’s husband. Besides, you will tell him a much better story than I could.”
“Surely you believe me when I say it was all my own doing.”
“My knowledge of your skill in letter-writing is so great that I feel no difficulty in crediting your singular statement. The fact is,” proceeded Mrs. Stondon, suddenly changing her tone, “you have placed yourself in a most difficult position with a man whom it is well-nigh impossible to persuade, and you must try to get out of this scrape for yourself. There is time enough, however, for you to think over the matter, for there is no possibility of any immediate change; and even when he does get better, you must not harass him with your confessions till he is strong enough to bear them.”
“And if he speaks to you on the subject——”
“I shall tell him what I think—that a woman who could act as you have done is only fit for Bedlam. And now,” added Phemie, “had you not better go to your own room for a little while and rest after your journey? I will send Marshall to you in case you require anything.”
“Do not send her. I require nothing—except—except——”
“What?” asked Phemie, icily.
“Your forgiveness and your friendship.”
“Nonsense!” returned Mrs. Stondon. “You want neither one nor the other, Georgina. There is no use in trying to impose upon me. When you can wipe out the memory of the words you have spoken this day, you will then perhaps be able to persuade me you value the friendship or affection of any woman, but not till then. Nay, do not go on your knees to me—it is perfectly unnecessary and extremely ridiculous. Pray get up,” she entreated; “some of the servants may come in, or my uncle, and it does look so excessively absurd. Pray get up;” and almost by force Phemie raised her visitor from the floor, and went with her to her room, and left her in an easy-chair with—to quote Mrs. Stondon—“an embroidered handkerchief smelling of millefleurs held to her face, and an evident inclination to weep abundantly.”
“I told her it would be the very best way possible for her to employ her time,” said Mrs. Stondon to her uncle, as they stood together in the dining-room. “Of course, she thinks me a hard-hearted Goth; but I mean to teach Mrs. Basil Stondon that she shall not be insolent to me with impunity, and that I will not endure such speeches as she has made to-day patiently from anyone on earth.”