Audrey Craven Part 20

He went with her down the short flagged path that led to the gate. Once out of the servant's hearing, he stopped, and looked firmly in her face.

"I must see you now, and it had better be in the house. I've only one question to ask you. Five minutes will be enough for that--at least it won't be my fault if it isn't."

She had laid her hand on the gate, which Ted held shut, and her mouth was obstinately set. Something in his voice conquered her self-will. She turned and led the way to the house.

"You had better come into the morning-room."

He followed her; she closed the door, and they stood facing each other a moment without speaking.

"Well, Ted?" Her voice went to his heart with its piercing sweetness.

"Audrey, why did you write that letter?"

"Because it was easier to write what I did than to say it. Do you want to hold me to my word?"

"No. I want to know your reasons for breaking it. You haven't given me any yet."

"I did, Ted. I told you it had all been a mistake--yours and mine."

"Speak for yourself. Where was my mistake?"

"The mistake was in our ever getting engaged at all--in our thinking that we cared for each other."

"I cared enough for you, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't. You only thought you did. Katherine told me----"

"What did Katherine tell you?"

"That you hadn't any feelings, that you really cared for nothing but your painting, that you'd only a ru--rudimentary heart."

"Really? That is interesting. When did she tell you that?"

"The very day we were engaged."

"And you believed her?"

"Not then. I did afterwards."

"How long afterwards--the other day?"

"Ye-yes; I think so."

"I see--when you wanted to believe it. Not before."

She was trembling, but she gathered together all her feeble forces for the defence.

"No, no; don't you remember? At the very first--the day of our engagement--we were both so miserable at the idea of your going away--we did it all so recklessly--before either of us thought. You see, Ted, you were so very young."

"It's a pity that didn't strike you before."

"It did, it did; but I wouldn't think of it. I blinded myself. The fact is, we were both as mad as hatters. You know people can't get married in that state. We should have had to wait for a--a lucid interval."

Ted recognised the miserable pleasantry; it was what he had said to her himself a day or two after their engagement. The phrase had amused Audrey at the time and lodged in her memory. She borrowed it now in her hour of need, and laughed, unconscious of her plagiarism.

"I understand perfectly. You want to get rid of me as a proof of your own sanity. Is that it?"

She looked up in the utmost surprise. "Not to get rid of you, Ted, of course not. I shall still keep you as my best friend."

"Thanks. You had better not try to do that. I'm told I've no talent for friendship."

"Then I suppose, after this, you'd rather I cut you, if we meet?"

"You can please yourself about that."

"You may be sure I shall. Oh, Ted, I didn't expect that from you! But it's quite right. Hit hard, I can't defend myself."

"Please don't attempt it, there's no occasion to. Only tell me one thing."

"Well?" She sat down as if wearied with this unnecessary trifling.

He paused.

"It's evident that you don't care about _me_. Do you care for any one else?"

"You've no right to ask me that."

"Haven't I? I thought I had; and, if you'll only think a minute, you'll agree with me."

She put her head on one side as if gravely considering the question.

"No. You've no right to ask me that."

"Let me put it differently--since your feelings are sacred, you needn't tell me anything about _them_. Were you engaged to Hardy before you knew me?"

"That question is even more impertinent than the last."

"I beg your pardon then. Don't answer it, if you don't like to."

He turned away.

"Don't go yet, Ted. I haven't done. Listen. I was thoughtless, I was mistaken" (Audrey was anxious to escape the imputation of a big fault by the graceful confession of a little one), "but I'm not as bad as you think me. You think I cared for Vincent. I didn't. I never cared a straw about him--never. You were the first."

"Was I? Not the last though, it seems."

"Perhaps not. But I deceived myself before I deceived you."

"Well, you took me in completely, if it's any satisfaction to you. Never mind, Audrey; you've done your best to remedy that now."