“It would be sheer lunacy!” cried the lady, appalled at the certain catastrophe that such a proceeding would cause. Did not the demented creature see that the whole affair was in unstable equilibrium? A touch, let alone a shock like this, would bring it toppling down, never to be set up again by any prayers, remonstrances, ravings, curses, thumbscrews, or racks the ingenuity of an outraged mother could devise.
“It would be utter imbecility,” she continued. “My dear man, don't you think one mad Don Quixote in a romance is enough? What on earth would you, Norma, or any one else gain by telling her? She is as happy as possible now, buying her trousseau and making all the wedding arrangements. Why spoil her happiness? I think it exceedingly inconsiderate of you—not to say selfish—I do really.”
“Hardly that. It was an idea of doing penance,” said Morland.
“If that is all,” said Mrs. Hardacre, relaxing into a bantering tone, as she joyfully noted the lack of conviction in his manner, “I'll make you a hair shirt, and I'll promise it shall be scratchy—untanned pigskin with the bristles on, if you like. Be as uncomfortable, my dear Morland, as ever you choose—wear a frock-coat with a bowler hat or dine tête-à-tête with Mr. Hardacre, but do leave other folks to pass their lives in peace and quiet.”
Morland threw himself back and laughed, and Mrs. Hardacre knew she had won what she paradoxically called a moral victory. They discussed the question for a few moments longer, and then Morland rose to take his leave.
“It's awfully good of you to look at things in this broadminded way,” he said, with the air of a man whom an indulgent lady has pardoned for a small peccadillo. “Awfully good of you.”
“There is no other sane way of looking at them,” replied Mrs. Hardacre. “Won't you wait and see Norma?”
“I must get back to the House,” replied Morland, consulting his watch. “There may be a division before the dinner-hour.”
He smoked a great cigar on his way to Westminster, and enjoyed it thoroughly. Mrs. Hardacre was quite right. He had done his best. If Jimmie was too high and mighty to accept the only compensation possible, he was not to blame. The matter was over and done with. It would be idiotic to tell Norma.
Meanwhile, having made confession and received absolution, he felt spiritually refreshed.