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Page 38
"Because I never said them. What do you think of me? Even if I did care,
do you suppose I would say as much--and to another man? Oh!" she
exclaimed with sudden indignation, "let's talk of something else. This
is too--preposterous."
"You never told Ferriss that you cared for me?"
"No."
Bennett took off his cap. "Very well, then. That is enough. Good-bye,
Miss Searight."
"Do you believe I told Mr. Ferriss I loved you?"
"I do not believe that the man who has been more to me than a brother is
a liar and a rascal."
"Good-morning, Mr. Bennett."
They had come rather near to the farmhouse by this time. Without another
word Bennett gave the whip and the lap-robe into her hands, and, turning
upon his heel, walked away down the road.
Lloyd told Lewis as much of the morning's accident by the canal as was
necessary, and gave orders about the dog-cart and the burying of Rox.
Then slowly, her eyes fixed and wide, she went up to her own room and,
without removing either her hat or her gloves, sat down upon the edge of
the bed, letting her hands fall limply into her lap, gazing abstractedly
at the white curtain just stirring at the open window.
She could not say which hurt her most--that Ferriss had told the lie or
that Bennett believed it. But why, in heaven's name why, had Ferriss so
spoken to Bennett; what object had he in view; what had he to gain by
it? Why had Ferriss, the man who loved her, chosen so to humiliate her,
to put her in a position so galling to her pride, her dignity? Bennett,
too, loved her. How could he believe that she had so demeaned herself?
She had been hurt and to the heart, at a point where she believed
herself most unassailable, and he who held the weapon was the man that
with all the heart of her and soul of her she loved.
Much of the situation was all beyond her. Try as she would she could not
understand. One thing, however, she saw clearly, unmistakably: Bennett
believed that she loved him, believed that she had told as much to
Ferriss, and that when she had denied all knowledge of Ferriss's lie she
was only coquetting with him. She knew Bennett and his character well
enough to realise that an idea once rooted in his mind was all but
ineradicable. Bennett was not a man of easy changes; nothing mobile
about him.
The thought of this belief of Bennett's was intolerable. As she sat
there alone in her white room the dull crimson of her cheeks flamed
suddenly scarlet, and with a quick, involuntary gesture she threw her
hand, palm outward, across her face to hide it from the sunlight. She
went quickly from one mood to another. Now her anger grew suddenly hot
against Ferriss. How had he dared? How had he dared to put this
indignity, this outrageous insult, upon her? Now her wrath turned upon
Bennett. What audacity had been his to believe that she would so forget
herself? She set her teeth in her impotent anger, rising to her feet,
her hands clenching, tears of sheer passion starting to her eyes.
For the greater part of the afternoon she kept to her room, pacing the
floor from wall to wall, trying to think clearly, to resolve upon
something that would readjust the situation, that would give her back
her peace of mind, her dignity, and her happiness of the early morning.
For now the great joy that had come to her in his safe return was all
but gone. For one moment she even told herself she could not love him,
but the next was willing to admit that it was only because of her love
of him, as strong and deep as ever, that the humiliation cut so deeply
and cruelly now. Ferriss had lied about her, and Bennett had believed
the lie. To meet Bennett again under such circumstances was not to be
thought of for one moment. Her vacation was spoiled; the charm of the
country had vanished. Lloyd returned to the City the next day.
She found that she was glad to get back to her work. The subdued murmur
of the City that hourly assaulted her windows was a relief to her ears
after the profound and numbing silence of the country. The square was
never so beautiful as at this time of summer, and even the restless
shadow pictures, that after dark were thrown upon the ceiling of her
room by the electrics shining through the great elms in the square
below, were a pleasure.
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