mary seemed to flame from head to foot. the momentary hesitation passed. no, it was quite impossible to support this kind of thing for the best part of a week; the thought of slanderous, wagging tongues was unendurable. at any cost these creatures must be removed; even the servants must know nothing. so far as slight was concerned, he was absolutely to be trusted. mary's mind was made up for good and all.
time was passing more quickly than she knew. as she stood there the clock chimed the half-hour after midnight. a few minutes later and mary heard her father calling her. she understood him to say that mayfield had arrived.
"let him come here," the girl said independently. "i am quite ready."
sir george shuffled off again in the direction of the library, where mayfield stood on the mat before the fireplace smoking a cigarette. there was not the slightest suggestion of triumph about him, his face was calm and set. he looked like some under-secretary who is about to read statistics to a house of bored listeners. he had left his eye-glass behind him, so that the cynical expression was absent.
"she's in the drawing-room," sir george said. his manner was almost cringing. "she--she prefers to discuss the matter with you alone. perhaps she thinks that you are more likely to listen to her than to me--mayfield."
"she's right there," mayfield said almost brutally. "it is a matter between ourselves. sorry to put you to all this inconvenience, dashwood, but there was no other way of teaching the lesson. but you need not worry, half an hour will see the whole matter settled, and even your servants will not be any the wiser. i arranged the thing so that you should have the maximum of experience at the minimum of inconvenience."
sir george muttered something to the effect that his companion was very thoughtful. there was not an atom of fight left in him, and he took no heed of anything but his own personal comfort. the sooner mayfield and mary came to an understanding and those cattle were cleared out of the house, the better. after that sir george could go to bed.
without undue haste or eagerness, mayfield passed into the drawing-room. there was just a sardonic touch in his smile as he noticed the snoring hog on the yellow satin lounge. he quite understood why a sight like that could touch mary's pride to the quick. strange what queer pawns in the game of life a clever man had to use at times! mary was standing in the window-frame looking out into the night. everything seemed so still and peaceful; there was no jarring note save the snore of the man in possession. mayfield just touched mary on the arm and she turned. her face flushed for an instant, and then it became deadly pale again.
"not in there," she said, "i cannot breathe in the house tonight. do you know what i should have done had this happened a century or two ago?"
mayfield did not know, but he could give a pretty shrewd guess as he glanced at the steely blue glitter in mary's eyes. a certain pride of possession thrilled him.
"i think you know," mary went on. "i should have asked you here to discuss the matter, to appeal to your better nature. and when i failed i should have killed you first and myself afterwards. i could do it now if i had the weapon to my hand."
mayfield nodded. far better to let mary talk herself out, he told himself cynically. she was not the sort of girl to yield without a struggle, she was no frightened child to sue for terms. but in the letter she had written to mayfield she had sounded the note of surrender. he was here now as conqueror; to see her walk out with all the honours of war. and surely she was worth all the strategy if any woman was, the tall, fair beauty with those flashing eyes and the skin of alabaster glistening in the rays of the moonlight. a prize worth the winning, a daughter of the gods, if ever there was one.
"but these methods are out of date," mary went on in the same bitter strain. "i am told that they do things in different fashion today. you have done me the honour to ask me to share your future life and i refused the offer."
"why?" mayfield asked. "my family is equally as good as your own."
"i know it. but noblesse oblige. you are what you are. and so you planned and plotted for this; with diabolical cunning you saw where you could strike me in a fatal spot. you came here tonight in a position to make your own terms."
"not quite," mayfield said quietly. "there is another way for you. so far as i understand your father is in a position to make his holding sure in a few days. the house is large and the presence of a few guests, however undesirable, makes little difference. it is, i admit, not a nice thing to have one of the great unwashed smoking shag tobacco in the drawing-room, but it is only a matter of days. the matter is in your hands for you to decide as you please. i am not going to coerce you."
mary laughed scornfully. the mirth sounded harshly against the silence of the night; the man on the satin cushions stirred and made a gurgling noise in his throat. mary's mood suddenly changed and she shuddered. she was bitterly conscious of her complete inability to do anything. she had expected mayfield to take his triumph openly; she was just beginning to understand what a strong and dangerous foe he could be.
"you know how to gloss it," the girl said. "but there is going to be no tacit ignoring of the real truth between you and me. you have brought this all about to force my hand. you have calculated upon my pride of race, and my pride of place. you know--nobody better--what suffering this is likely to afford me. and you are in a position to remove the pain and the humiliation with the stroke of a pen."
"yes, i could do that," mayfield said, speaking as if the suggestion threw an entirely new light on the situation. "as a matter of fact the thing is absurdly simple. i have only to send a telegram to my lawyer--one of your servants could take it to longtown and despatch it even at this late hour. my lawyer could come down by the morning mail, getting here before six o'clock, and send those fellows packing. then the incident would be forgotten as one forgets an unpleasant dream. you see, my resource is practically without a limit. i can meet you in any way that you please."
"i have felt that for some time," said mary coldly. "and in return for this--kindness!"
"surely there is no occasion for me to repeat my conditions! besides, 'conditions' is not a pretty word to use in dealing with a lady. you will not find your bonds irksome, you will not find in me a very exacting lover. it can go out to the world that there is an engagement between us and in due course a marriage will follow."
mayfield spoke quietly enough, but his looks belied his tone. there was a fierce volcano under that placid exterior, a strong, consuming passion, and a will to lead mary when once mayfield had the power over her. some instinct told the girl this.
"it sounds prosaic enough," she said. "i suppose i must take you at your word. and yet all the time i know perfectly well that i am doing myself a great wrong in the eyes of god and man. i am not so strong as i think--i am not strong enough to place my happiness before humiliation. i must have time to think this over."
"take as much time as you like. i will come again tomorrow, if you please. you shall not throw it in my teeth afterwards that i have hurried you in any way."
mary sighed helplessly. the man was so strong and she was very, very weak. she might have gained the full advantage of her pledged word and broken it deliberately afterwards. it was the code of honour that mayfield would have possessed himself if he had seen any advantage by so doing. "and suppose i play you false?" mary asked.
"you will never do that, i am not in the least afraid; i trust you implicitly."
mary turned back, baffled and defeated at every turn. the night seemed to have grown suddenly chill, for she shivered as she made her way into the drawing-room. it wanted but a feather in the scale now, to make up her mind for good and all. her eyes were drawn by magnetic attraction to the sprawling figure on the cushions. the harsh note smote her like a thong.
"look at him," mayfield whispered, "does it not fill you with pain? and there he is likely to remain till the sight of him drives you beyond endurance. one word from you and the loathsome episode is past. why do you not say the word and finish it?"
the words seemed to sink into mary's soul. ralph darnley flashed into her mind, but she put his image resolutely aside. she pointed towards the door.
"you had better go," she said huskily, "go before i change my mind again. you will find some telegram forms in the silver case on the library table. need i say any more than that? you can come back and show me what you have written."
mayfield bowed and departed without showing the faintest indication of his victory. mary staggered across to the window, with her hands to her dry, hot head. a shadow seemed to rise from the gravel of the terrace, a shadow with a white face framed in grey hair, the form of lady dashwood, limping a little, but otherwise strong and resolute.
"you have been there long?" mary asked. "you have been listening."
"yes, yes," lady dashwood said in a strange thrilling whisper, "listening, and waiting for my chance. it is not too late yet, my child. thank god, i am in time. you must not do it, you must not heed, for the sacrifice would be all in vain. come, let me tell you what i mean. you are not used to dealing with scoundrels--i am!"
