The Odd Women Part 32

'Yes, I think it did.'

Unable to adapt himself at once to this singular mood of Rhoda's, but resolved not to let her go before he had tried to learn the cause of it, he walked along by her side. In this part of the gardens there were only a few nursemaids and children; it would have been a capital place and time for improving his intimacy with the remarkable woman. But possibly she was determined to be rid of him. A contest between his will and hers would be an amus.e.m.e.nt decidedly to his taste.

'You also have been disturbed by it, Miss Nunn.'

'By the inquest?' she returned, with barely veiled scorn. 'Indeed I have not.'

'Did you know that poor girl?'

'Some time ago.'

'Then it is only natural that her miserable fate should sadden you.'

He spoke as if with respectful sympathy, ignoring what she had said.

'It has no effect whatever upon me,' Rhoda answered, glancing at him with surprise and displeasure.

'Forgive me if I say that I find it difficult to believe that. Perhaps you--'

She interrupted him.

'I don't easily forgive anyone who charges me with falsehood, Mr.

Barfoot.'

'Oh, you take it too seriously. I beg your pardon a thousand times. I was going to say that perhaps you won't allow yourself to acknowledge any feeling of compa.s.sion in such a case.'

'I don't acknowledge what I don't feel. I will bid you good-afternoon.'

He smiled at her with all the softness and persuasiveness of which he was capable. She had offered her hand with cold dignity, and instead of taking it merely for good-bye he retained it.

'You must, you shall forgive me! I shall be too miserable if you dismiss me in this way. I see that I was altogether wrong. You know all the particulars of the case, and I have only read a brief newspaper account. I am sure the girl didn't deserve your pity.'

She was trying to draw her hand away. Everard felt the strength of her muscles, and the sensation was somehow so pleasant that he could not at once release her.

'You do pardon me, Miss Nunn?'

'Please don't be foolish. I will thank you to let my hand go.'

Was it possible? Her cheek had coloured, ever so slightly. But with indignation, no doubt, for her eyes flashed sternly at him. Very unwillingly, Everard had no choice but to obey the command.

'Will you have the kindness to tell me,' he said more gravely, 'whether my cousin was suffering only from that cause?'

'I can't say,' she added after a pause. 'I haven't spoken with Miss Barfoot for two or three days.'

He looked at her with genuine astonishment.

'You haven't seen each other?'

'Miss Barfoot is angry with me. I think we shall be obliged to part.'

'To part? What can possibly have happened? Miss Barfoot angry with _you_?'

'If I _must_ satisfy your curiosity, Mr. Barfoot, I had better tell you at once that the subject of our difference is the girl you mentioned.

Not very long ago she tried to persuade your cousin to receive her again--to give her lessons at the place in Great Portland Street, as before she disgraced herself. Miss Barfoot, with too ready good-nature, was willing to do this, but I resisted. It seemed to me that it would be a very weak and wrong thing to do. At the time she ended by agreeing with me. Now that the girl has killed herself, she throws the blame upon my interference. We had a painful conversation, and I don't think we can continue to live together.'

Barfoot listened with gratification. It was much to have compelled Rhoda to explain herself, and on such a subject.

'Nor even to work together?' he asked.

'It is doubtful.'

Rhoda still moved forward, but very slowly, and without impatience.

'You will somehow get over this difficulty, I am sure. Such friends as you and Mary don't quarrel like ordinary unreasonable women. Won't you let me be of use?'

'How?' asked Rhoda with surprise.

'I shall make my cousin see that she is wrong.'

'How do you know that she is wrong?'

'Because I am convinced that _you_ must be right. I respect Mary's judgment, but I respect yours still more.'

Rhoda raised her head and smiled.

'That compliment,' she said, 'pleases me less than the one you have uttered without intending it.'

'You must explain.'

'You said that by making Miss Barfoot see she was wrong you could alter her mind towards me. The world's opinion would hardly support you in that, even in the case of men.'

Everard laughed.

'Now this is better. Now we are talking in the old way. Surely you know that the world's opinion has no validity for me.'

She kept silence.

'But, after all, _is_ Mary wrong? I'm not afraid to ask the question now that your face has cleared a little. How angry you were with me!

But surely I didn't deserve it. You would have been much more forbearing if you had known what delight I felt when I saw you sitting over there. It is nearly a month since we met, and I couldn't keep away any longer.'

Rhoda swept the distance with indifferent eyes.

'Mary was fond of this girl?' he inquired, watching her.

'Yes, she was.'

'Then her distress, and even anger, are natural enough. We won't discuss the girl's history; probably I know all that I need to. But whatever her misdoing, you certainly didn't wish to drive her to suicide.'