In the Year of Jubilee Part 70

Nancy's dress had an emphasis of fas.h.i.+on formerly unknown to it; appropriate enough considering her new occupation. The flush upon her cheeks, the light of doubtful meaning in her eyes, gave splendour to a beauty matured by motherhood. In the dark street, a fortnight ago, Tarrant could hardly be said to have seen her; he gazed in wonder and admiration.

'What has brought you here?'

'A cause quite sufficient.--This is a little house; can we talk without being overheard?'

'You can shout if you wish to,' she answered flippantly. 'The servant is Out, and Mary is downstairs.'

Nancy did not seat herself, and offered no seat to the visitor.

'Why have you made yourself a shop-girl?'

'I didn't know that I had.'

'I am told you go daily to some shop or other.'

'I am engaged at a place of business, but I don't.--However, that doesn't matter. What business is it of yours?'

'Who is Mr. Luckworth Crewe?'

Nancy kept her eyes still more resolutely fronting his severe look.

'A man I used to know.'

'You don't see him now-a-days?'

'It's many months since I saw him.'

'Who, then, is the woman who has told him your whole story--with embellishments, and who says she has had it from you yourself?'

Nancy was speechless.

'I don't say there is any such person,' Tarrant continued. 'The man may have lied in that particular. But he has somehow got to know a good deal about you,--where and when your child was born, where it is now, where I live, and so on. And all this he has reported to your aunt, Mrs.

Damerel.'

'To her?--How do you know?'

For answer he held out Mrs. Damerel's note of invitation, then added:

'I have been with her this afternoon. She is coming to offer you her protection against the scoundrel who has ruined you, and who is now living upon you.'

'What do you mean?'

'That's the form the story has taken, either in Mr. Crewe's mind, or in that of the woman who told it to him.'

'Don't they know that I am married?'

'Evidently not.'

'And they think you--are having money from me?'

'That's how they explain your taking a place in a shop.'

Nancy laughed, and laughed again.

'How ridiculous!'

'I'm glad you can get amus.e.m.e.nt out of it. Perhaps you can suggest how the joke began?'

She moved a few steps, then turned again to him.

'Yes, I know who the woman must be. It's Beatrice French.'

'A bosom friend of yours, of course.'

'Nothing of the kind.'

'But you have taken her into your confidence--up to a certain point?'

'Yes, I have told her. And she told Mr. Crewe? I understand that. Well, what does it matter?'

Tarrant was at a loss to interpret this singular levity. He had never truly believed that reading of Nancy's character by means of which he tried to persuade himself that his marriage was an unmitigated calamity, and a final parting between them the best thing that could happen.

His memories of her, and the letters she had written him, coloured her personality far otherwise. Yet was not the harsh judgment after all the true one?

'It doesn't matter to you,' he said, 'that people think you an unmarried mother,--that people are talking about you with grins and sneers?'

Nancy reddened in angry shame.

'Let them talk!' she exclaimed violently. 'What does it matter, so long as they don't know I'm married?'

'So long as they don't know?--How came you to tell this woman?'

'Do you suppose I told her for amus.e.m.e.nt? She found out what had happened at Falmouth,--found out simply by going down there and making inquiries; because she suspected me of some secret affair with a man she wants to marry herself--this Mr. Crewe. The wonder of wonders is that no one else got to know of it in that way. Any one who cared much what happened to me would have seen the all but impossibility of keeping such a secret.'

It is a notable instance of evolutionary process that the female mind, in wrath, flies to just those logical inept.i.tudes which most surely exasperate the male intelligence. Tarrant gave a laugh of irate scorn.

'Why, you told me the other day that I cared particularly whether your secret was discovered or not--that I only married you in the hope of profiting by it?'

'Wouldn't any woman think so?'

'I hope not. I believe there are some women who don't rush naturally to a base supposition.'

'Did I?' Nancy exclaimed, with a vehement pa.s.sion that made her breast heave. 'Didn't I give you time enough--believe in you until I could believe no longer?'

The note of her thrilling voice went to Tarrant's heart, and his head drooped.

'That may be true,' he said gravely. 'But go on with your explanation.

This woman came to you, and told you what she had discovered?'

'Yes.'