"I knew it," she was saying, as I turned the corner. "I knew it. I knew there was some reason, some mean selfish reason why you were willin' to take that girl under your wing. I knew it wasn't kind-heartedness and relationship. I knew it."
It was Solomon Cripps who answered. Mr. and Mrs. Cripps, arrayed in their Sabbath black and white, were standing by the door of their villa.
Hephzy was standing before them. Her face was set and determined and she looked highly indignant. Mr. Cripps' face was red and frowning and he gesticulated with a red hand, which clasped a Testament. His English was by no means as pure and undefiled as when he had endeavored to persuade us into hiring "Ash Clump."
"Look 'ere," he snarled. "Don't you talk to me like that. Don't you suppose I know what I'm doing. You Yankees may be clever at your tricks, but you can't trick me. Don't I know about the money you stole from 'er father? Don't I, eh? You can tell 'er your lies about it being stolen by someone else, but I can see a 'ole through a millstone. You can't trick me, I tell you. They're giving that girl a good 'ome and care and all that, but we're goin' to see she 'as 'er rights. You've filled 'er silly 'ead with your stories. You've made 'er think you're all that's good and--"
I was at hand by this time.
"What's all this, Hephzy?" I asked.
Before Hephzy could reply Mrs. Cripps spoke.
"It's him!" she cried, seizing her husband's arm with one hand and pointing at me with the other. "It's him," she cried, venomously. "He's here, too."
The sight of me appeared to upset what little self-control Mr. Cripps had left.
"You!" he shouted, "I might 'ave known you were 'ere. You're the one that's done it. You're responsible. Filling her silly 'ead with lies about your goodness and all that. Making her fall in love with you and--"
I sprang forward.
"WHAT?" I cried. "What are you saying?"
Hephzy was frightened.
"Hosy," she cried, "don't look so. Don't! You frighten me."
I scarcely heard her.
"WHAT did you say?" I demanded, addressing Cripps, who shrank back, rather alarmed apparently. "Why, you scoundrel! What do you mean by saying that? Speak up! What do you mean by it?"
If Mr. Cripps was alarmed his wife was not. She stepped forward and faced me defiantly.
"He means just what he says," she declared, her shrill voice quivering with vindictive spite. "And you know what he means perfectly well. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a man as old as you and she an innocent young girl! You've hypnotized her--that is what you've done, hypnotized her. All those ridiculous stories about her having no money she believes because you told them to her. She would believe the moon was made of green cheese if you said so. She's mad about you--the poor little fool!
She won't hear a word against you--says you're the best, noblest man in the world! You! Why she won't even deny that she's in love with you; she was brazen enough to tell me she was proud of it. Oh.... Stop! Where are you going? Solomon, stop him!"
Solomon did not stop me. I am very glad he didn't try. No one could have stopped me then. I was on my way back along the garden path, and if I did not keep to that path, but plunged ruthlessly through flower beds and shrubbery I did not care, nor do I care now.
She was sitting on the rustic seat where I had left her. There were tears on her cheeks. She had heard me coming--a deaf person would have heard that--and she rose as I burst into view.
"What is it?" she cried, in alarm. "Oh, what is it?"
At the sight of her I paused. I had not meant to pause; I had intended to take her in my arms, to ask her if what I had just heard was true, to make her answer me. But now, as she stood there before me, so young, so girlish, so beautiful, the hopeless idiocy of the thing struck me with overwhelming force. It WAS idiocy. It couldn't be true.
"What is it?" she repeated. "Oh, Kent! what is the matter? Why did you come back? What has happened?"
I stepped forward. True or false I must know. I must know then and there. It was now or never for me.
"Frances," I stammered, "I came back because--I--I have just heard--Frances, you told me you loved someone--not Bayliss, but someone else. Who is that someone?"
She had been pale. My sudden and unexpected appearance had frightened her. Now as we faced each other, as I stood looking down into her face, I saw the color rise and spread over that face from throat to brow.
"Who is it?" I repeated.
She drew back.
"I--I can't tell you," she faltered. "You mustn't ask me."
"But I do ask. You must tell me, Frances--Frances, it isn't--it can't be that you love ME. Do you?"
She drew back still further. If there had been a way of escape I think she would have taken it. But there was none. The thick shrubbery was behind her and I was between her and the path. And I would not let her pass.
"Oh, Frances, do you?" I repeated. "I never meant to ask you. I never meant that you should know. I am so much older, and so--so unworthy--it has seemed so hopeless and ridiculous. But I love you, Frances, I have loved you from the very beginning, although at first I didn't realize it. I--If you do--if you can--I--I--"
I faltered, hesitated, and stopped. She did not answer for a moment, a long, long moment. Then:
"Mr. Knowles," she said, "you surprise me. I didn't suspect--I didn't think--"
I sighed. I had had my answer. Of course it was idiotic. I should have known; I did know.
"I see," I said. "I understand. Forgive me, please. I was a fool to even think of such a thing. I didn't think it. I didn't dare until--until just now. Then I was told--your cousin said--I might have known he didn't mean what he said. But he said it and--and--"
"What did he say? Mr. Cripps, do you mean? What did he say?"
"He said--he said you--you cared for me--in that way. Of course you don't--you can't. I know better. But for the moment I dared to hope. I was crazy, of course. Forgive me, Frances."
She looked up and then down again.
"There is nothing to forgive," she said.
"Yes, there is. There is a great deal. An old--"
"Hush! hush, please. Don't speak like that. I--I thank you. I--you mustn't suppose I am not grateful. I know you pity me. I know how generous you are. But your pity--"
"It isn't pity. I should pity myself, if that were all. I love you Frances, and I shall always love you. I am not ashamed of it. I shall have that love to comfort me till I die. I am ashamed of having told you, of troubling you again, that is all."
I was turning away, but I heard her step beside me and felt her hand upon my sleeve. I turned back again. She was looking me full in the face now and her eyes were shining.
"What Mr. Cripps said was true," she said.
I could not believe it. I did not believe it even then.
"True!" I repeated. "No, no! You don't mean--"
"I do mean it. I told him that I loved you."
I don't know what more she would have said. I did not wait to hear. She was in my arms at last and all England was whirling about me like a top.
"But you can't!" I found myself saying over and over. I must have said other things before, but I don't remember them. "You can't! it is impossible. You! marry an old fossil like me! Oh, Frances, are you sure?