"Please don't!" And I felt that my words had
touched her; that there were regret and repentance in
her tone and in the gesture with which she turned from
me.
She hurried down the passage swinging the lantern
at her side, and I followed, so mystified, so angered by
her composure, that I scarcely knew what I did. She
even turned, with pretty courtesy, to hold the light for
me at the crypt steps,-a service that I accepted perforce
and with joyless acquiescence in the irony of it.
I knew that I did not believe in her; her conduct as to
Pickering was utterly indefensible,-I could not forget
that; but the light of her eyes, her tranquil brow, the
sensitive lips, whose mockery stung and pleased in a
breath,-by such testimony my doubts were alternately
reinforced and disarmed. Swept by these changing
moods I followed her out into the crypt.
"You seem to know a good deal about this place, and
I suppose I can't object to your familiarizing yourself
with your own property. And the notes-I'll give myself
the pleasure of handing them to you to-morrow.
You can cancel them and give them to Mr. Pickering,-
a pretty pledge between you!"
I thrust my hands into my pockets to give an impression
of ease I did not feel.
"Yes," she remarked in a practical tone, "three hundred
and twenty thousand dollars is no mean sum of
money. Mr. Pickering will undoubtedly be delighted
to have his debts canceled-"
"In exchange for a life of devotion," I sneered. "So
you knew the sum-the exact amount of these notes.
He hasn't served you well; he should have told you that
we found them to-day."
"You are not nice, are you, Squire Glenarm, when you
are cross?"
She was like Olivia now. I felt the utter futility of
attempting to reason with a woman who could become
a child at will. She walked up the steps and out into
the church vestibule. Then before the outer door she
spoke with decision.
"We part here, if you please! And-I have not the
slightest intention of trying to explain my errand into
that passage. You have jumped to your own conclusion,
which will have to serve you. I advise you not
to think very much about it,-to the exclusion of more
important business,-Squire Glenarm!"
She lifted the lantern to turn out its light, and it
made a glory of her face, but she paused and held it
toward me.
"Pardon me! You will need this to light you home."
"But you must not cross the park alone!"
"Good night! Please be sure to close the door to the
passage when you go down. You are a dreadfully heedless
person, Squire Glenarm."
She flung open the outer chapel-door, and ran along
the path toward St. Agatha's. I watched her in the
starlight until a bend in the path hid her swift-moving
figure.