England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Short stories, English
"The best thing you can do is to go on the tramp, where you won't
be known," amended Mrs. Layne, who was nearly beside herself with
conflicting emotions. "Never again shall you enter the home that was
your poor dead father's. You wicked girl!--and you hardly twenty years
old yet! But, my lady, I can but think--though I know we are humble
people, as compared with you, and perhaps I've no right to say it--that
Sir Geoffry has not behaved like a gentleman."
"Hold your tongue, woman," said her ladyship. "Sir Geoffry----"
"Sir Geoffry is at least enough of a gentleman to take his evil deeds on
himself, and not shift them on to others," spoke the baronet, stepping
forward--and the unexpected interruption was startling to them all. My
lady pointed imperatively to the door, but he stood his ground.
It was no doubt a bitter moment for him; bringing home to him an awful
amount of self-humiliation: for throughout his life he had striven to do
right instead of wrong. And when these better men yield to temptation
instead of fleeing from it, the reacting sting is of the sharpest. The
wisest and strongest sometimes fall: and find too late that, though the
fall was so easy, the picking-up is of all things most difficult. Sir
Geoffry's face was white as death.
"Get up, Mary," he said gently, taking her hand to help her in all
respect. "Mrs. Layne," he added, turning to face the others; "my dear
mother--if I may dare still to call you so--suffer me to say a word. For
all that has taken place, I am alone to blame; on me only must it rest,
The fault----"
"Sin, sir," interrupted Mrs. Layne.
"Yes. Thank you. Sin. The sin lies with me, not with Mary. In my
presence reproach shall not be visited on her. She has enough trouble
to bear without that. I wish to Heaven that I had never--Mrs. Layne,
believe me," he resumed, after the pause, "no one can feel this more
keenly than I. And, if circumstances permit me to make reparation, I
will make it!"
Sir Geoffry wanted (circumstances permitting, as he shortly put it) to
marry Mary Layne; he _wished_ to do it. Taking his mother into another
room he told her this. Lady Chavasse simply thought him mad. She grew a
little afraid of him, lest he should set her and all high rules of
propriety at nought, and do it.
But trouble like this cannot be settled in an hour. Lady Chavasse, in
her great fear, conciliated just a little: she did not turn Miss Layne
out at once, as threatened, but suffered her to remain at the Grange for
the night.
"In any case, whatever may be the ending of this, it is not from my
family that risk of exposure must come," spoke Sir Geoffry, in a tone
of firmness. "It might leave me no alternative."
"No alternative?" repeated Lady Chavasse. "How?"
"Between my duty to you, and my duty to her," said Sir Geoffry. And my
lady's heart fainted within her at the suggested fear.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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