“Molly, what are you talking about?” she cried.
Mary was startled into a momentary self-control.
“Mr. Mottisfont,” she said. “David said it was poison—poison, Liz.”
Her voice fell to a low horrified whisper at the word, and then rose on the old gasp of, “Edward took him the tea.” A numbness came upon Elizabeth. Feeling was paralysed. She was conscious neither of horror, anxiety, nor sorrow. Only her brain remained clear. All her consciousness seemed to have gone to it, and it worked with an inconceivable clearness and rapidity.
“Hush, Mary,” she said. “What are you saying? Edward——”
Mary pushed her away.
“Of course not,” she said. “Liz, if you dared—but you don’t—no one could really—Edward of all people. But there’s all the talk, the scandal—we can’t have it. It must be stopped. And we’re losing time, we’re losing time dreadfully. I must go to David, and stop him before he writes to any one, or sees any one. He must sign the certificate.”
Elizabeth stood quite still for a moment. Then she went to the wash-stand, poured out a glass of water, and came back to Mary.
“Drink this, Molly,” she said. “Yes, drink it all, and pull yourself together. Now listen to me. You can’t possibly go to David.”
“I must go, I must,” said Mary. Her tone hardened. “Will you come with me, Liz, or must I go alone?”