‘What an absurd, false, conventional, inhuman, ridiculous view!’
‘Perhaps. Oh! I don’t know that it need tell between two young men. There is an allowance to be made in that way for bons camarades. But I think it is a just rule on the whole. My poor little experience is that it is best not to be very much obliged to one’s neighbours. No, no! I don’t say so for you, Leo. I believe you might give everything you have to a friend, and never remind him of it—never recollect it even yourself, as long as you lived.’
‘Is that much to say?’
‘In the way of the world, it is something extraordinary to say; but this is a totally different question from my little problem, which is urged upon me by your mother, Leo, as well as by my innocent people—my brother and sister here.’
‘You think my mother is not innocent—that she had some other motive?’
‘I did not say so; why should she have another motive? Whatever there may have been between her and me, I, at least, have done her no harm.’
‘Then it must be she who has harmed you?’
‘No; what can any one do to you, outside of yourself? All our troubles come from our own faults or mistakes. We say faults when we speak of others, mistakes when it is ourselves. You told me once that Miss Mansfield—Artémise—had appeared again?’
‘Ah! I should like to know what she had to do with it,’ he cried.
‘Nothing,’ said Lady William; ‘but it would be important to me to know where to find her. Will you find out for me? There is something which she only knows which I am anxious to make sure of.’