Part 50 (1/2)
He looked round at me quickly. His experience of my irritable temper had not prepared him for the perfect composure of voice and manner with which I answered his question. He looked back again from me to his cigar, and knocked off the ash at the tip of it (considering with himself) before he addressed his next words to me.
”We will come to the question of my leaving Dimchurch presently,” he said. ”Have you received a letter from Oscar?”
”Yes.”
”Have you read it?”
”I have read it.”
”Then you know that we understand each other?”
”I know that your brother has sacrificed himself--and that you have taken a base advantage of the sacrifice.”
He started, and looked round at me once more. I saw that something in my language, or in my tone of speaking, had stung him.
”You have your privilege as a lady,” he said. ”Don't push it too far.
What Oscar has done, he has done of his own free will.”
”What Oscar has done,” I rejoined, ”is lamentably foolish, cruelly wrong.
Still, perverted as it is, there is something generous, something n.o.ble, in the motive which has led _him._ As for your conduct in this matter, I see nothing but what is mean, nothing but what is cowardly, in the motive which has led _you._”
He started to his feet, and flung his cigar into the empty fireplace.
”Madame Pratolungo,” he said, ”I have not the honor of knowing anything of your family. I can't call a woman to account for insulting me. Do you happen to have any _man_ related to you, in or out of England?”
”I happen to have what will do equally well on this occasion,” I replied.
”I have a hearty contempt for threats of all sorts, and a steady resolution in me to say what I think.”
He walked to the door, and opened it.
”I decline to give you the opportunity of saying anything more,” he rejoined. ”I beg to leave you in possession of the room, and to wish you good evening.”
He opened the door. I had entered the house, armed in my own mind with a last desperate resolve, only to be communicated to him, or to anybody, in the final emergency and at the eleventh hour. The time had come for saying what I had hoped with my whole heart to have left unsaid.
I rose on my side, and stopped him as he was leaving the room.
”Return to your chair and your book,” I said. ”Our interview is at an end. In leaving the house, I have one last word to say. You are wasting your time in remaining at Dimchurch.”
”I am the best judge of that,” he answered, making way for me to go out.
”Pardon me, you are not in a position to judge at all. You don't know what I mean to do as soon as I get back to the rectory.”
He instantly changed his position; placing himself in the doorway so as to prevent me from leaving the room.
”What do you mean to do?” he asked, keeping his eyes attentively fixed on mine.
”I mean to force you to leave Dimchurch.”
He laughed insolently. I went on as quietly as before. ”You have personated your brother to Lucilla this morning,” I said. ”You have done that, Mr. Nugent Dubourg, for the last time.”