“I shall simply tell her that you were deeply offended at something you had heard about Captain Horton, and had resolved never to see him again—never to forgive him.”
“That's all very well about me; but he said in her hearing some rubbish about you being his intercessor, and that he had been as much your enemy as mine. What will you say about that?”
“Nothing. I'm not a child, Mary, to be made to tell things I don't wish to speak about. But you don't know Constance, or you would not think her capable of questioning me.”
“Then, dear Fan, I must ask you again to forgive me. I ought to have known you better than to fear such a thing for a moment. But, Fan, you must make some allowance; it was so horrible trying to meet him in that way, and—my anger got the better of me, and one is always unjust at such times. They say,” she added with a little laugh, “that an angry woman's instinct is always to turn and rend somebody, and after he had gone I had nobody but you to rend.”
Her temper had suddenly changed; she was smiling and gracious and bright-eyed, and full of rich colour again.
“Then, Mary, you will stay a little longer and take tea with us?” said Fan quietly, but about forgiveness she said nothing.
Just then Constance came back to the room.
“Oh, Mrs. Chance,” said Mary, “I have been waiting to say good-bye to you, and—to apologise to you for having made such a scene the first time we have been together. I am really ashamed of myself, but Fan will tell you”—glancing at the girl—“that I had only too good reason to be deeply offended with that—with Captain Horton. Fan wants me to stay to tea, but I will do so only on the condition that you both take tea with me at Dawson Place to-morrow afternoon.”
Constance agreed gladly; Fan less gladly, which caused Mary to look searchingly at her. During tea she continued in the same agreeable temper, evidently anxious only to do away with the unpleasant impression she had made on Mrs. Chance by her disordered manner and language, which had contrasted badly with the Captain's quiet dignity.
Finally, when she took her departure, Fan, still strangely quiet and grave-eyed, accompanied her to the door. “Thank you so much for coming, Mary,” she said, a little coldly. They were standing in the hall, and the other attentively studied her face for some moments.