'My good girl,' he said, speaking on the spur of the moment--for the
reception took him aback--'what is it? What is the matter?' She did not answer, but looked at him with solemn eyes, condemning him.
Even so Sir George was not blind to the whiteness of her throat, to the
heavy coils of her dark hair, and the smooth beauty of her brow. And
suddenly he thought he understood; and a chill ran through him. 'My
G--d!' he said, startled; 'he is not dead?'
She closed the door behind her, and stood, her hand on the latch. 'No,
he is not dead,' she said stiffly, voice and look alike repellent. 'But
he has not you to thank for that.' 'Eh?'
'How can you come here with that face,' she continued with sudden
passion--and he began to find her eyes intolerable--'and ask for him?
You who--fie, sir! Go home! Go home and thank God that you have not his
blood upon your hands--you--who might to-day be Cain!'
He gasped. 'Good Lord!' he said unaffectedly. And then, 'Why, you are
the girl who yesterday would have me kill him!' he cried with
indignation; 'who came out of town to meet me, brought me in, and would
have matched me with him as coolly as ever sportsman set cock in pit!
Ay, you! And now you blame me! My girl, blame yourself! Call yourself
Cain, if you please!'
'I do,' she said unblenching. 'But I have my excuse. God forgive me none
the less!' Her eyes filled as she said it. 'I had and have my excuse.
But you--a gentleman! What part had you in this? Who were you to kill
your fellow-creature--at the word of a distraught girl?'
Sir George saw his opening and jumped for it viciously. 'I fear you
honour me too much,' he said, in the tone of elaborate politeness, which
was most likely to embarrass a woman in her position. 'Most certainly
you do, if you are really under the impression that I fought Mr.
Dunborough on your account, my girl!'
'Did you not?' she stammered; and the new-born doubt in her eyes
betrayed her trouble.
'Mr. Dunborough struck me, because I would not let him fire on the
crowd,' Sir George explained, blandly raising his quizzing glass, but
not using it. 'That was why I fought him. And that is my excuse. You
see, my dear,' he continued familiarly, 'we have each an excuse. But I
am not a hypocrite.' 'Why do you call me that?' she exclaimed; distress and shame at the
mistake she had made contending with her anger.