"You won't give me away, Anna. He would never recognize me now. You are much more like what I was then."

Anna stopped in front of her.

"You don't propose, do you," she said quietly, "that I should take this man for my husband?"

"You can drive him away," Annabel cried. "Tell him that he is mad. Go and live somewhere else."

"In his present mood," Anna remarked, "he would follow me."

"Oh, you are strong and brave," Annabel murmured. "You can keep him at arm's length. Besides, it was under false pretences. He told me that he was a millionaire. It could not be a legal marriage."

"I am very much afraid," Anna answered, "that it was. It might be upset. I am wondering whether it would not be better to tell your husband everything. You will never be happy with this hanging over you."

Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne.

"You don't know him, Anna," she said with a little shudder, "or you would not talk like that. He is steeped in the conventions. Every slight action is influenced by what he imagines would be the opinion of other people. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. He has no imagination, no real generosity. You might tell the truth to some men, but never to him."

Anna was thoughtful. A conviction that her sister's words were true had from the first possessed her.

"Annabel," she said slowly, "if I fight this thing out myself, can I trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have said it is useless for us to play with words. You do not love your husband, you have married him for a position--to escape from--things which you feared. Will you be a faithful and honest wife? Will you do your duty by him, and forget all your past follies? Unless, Annabel, you can----"

"Oh, I will pledge you my word," Annabel cried pa.s.sionately, "my solemn word. Believe me, Anna. Oh, you must believe me. I have been very foolish, but it is over."

"Remember that you are young still, and fond of admiration," Anna said. "You will not give Sir John any cause for jealousy? You will have no secrets from him except--concerning those things which are past?"

"Anna, I swear it!" her sister sobbed.

"Then I will do what I can," Anna promised. "I believe that you are quite safe. He has had brain fever since, and, as you say, I am more like what you were then than you yourself are now. I don't think for a moment that he would recognize you."

Annabel clutched her sister's hands. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs.

"Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world," she cried.

"Oh, I can't thank you. You dear, dear girl. I--listen."

They heard a man's voice outside.

"Sir John!" Annabel gasped.

Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door.

"One moment, if you please!"

She stopped short and looked round. Sir John stood upon the threshold.

_Chapter XVI_

THE DISCOMFITURE OF SIR JOHN

Sir John looked from one to the other of the two sisters. His face darkened.

"My arrival appears to be opportune," he said stiffly. "I was hoping to be able to secure a few minutes' conversation with you, Miss Pellissier. Perhaps my wife has already prepared you for what I wish to say."

"Not in the least," Anna answered calmly. "We have scarcely mentioned your name."

Sir John coughed. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands--he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him.

"It is concerning--our future relations," Sir John p.r.o.nounced ponderously.

"Indeed!" Anna answered indifferently. "That sounds interesting."

Sir John frowned. Anna was unimpressed. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes.

"I have no wish," he said, "to altogether ignore the fact that you are my wife's sister, and have therefore a certain claim upon me."

Anna's eyes opened a little wider, but she said nothing.

"A claim," he continued, "which I am quite prepared to recognize. It will give me great pleasure to settle an annuity for a moderate amount upon you on certain conditions."

"A--what?" Anna asked.

"An annuity--a sum of money paid to you yearly or quarterly through my solicitors, and which you can consider as a gift from your sister. The conditions are such as I think you will recognize the justice of. I wish to prevent a repet.i.tion of any such errand as I presume you have come here upon this evening. I cannot have my wife distressed or worried."

"May I ask," Anna said softly, "what you presume to have been the nature of my errand here this evening?"

Sir John pointed to Annabel, who was as yet utterly limp.

"I cannot but conclude," he said, "that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. I should like to add that if a certain amount is needed to set you free from any debts you may have contracted, in addition to this annuity, you will not find me unreasonable."

Anna glanced momentarily towards her sister, but Annabel neither spoke nor moved.

"With regard to the conditions I mentioned," Sir John continued, gaining a little confidence from Anna's silence, "I think you will admit that they are not wholly unreasonable. I should require you to accept no employment whatever upon the stage, and to remain out of England."

Anna's demeanour was still imperturbable, her marble pallor untinged by the slightest flush of colour. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. Sir John hesitated, and then continued.

"I trust," he said, "that you will recognize the justice of these conditions. Under happier circ.u.mstances nothing would have given me more pleasure than to have offered you a home with your sister. You yourself, I am sure, recognize how impossible you have made it for me now to do anything of the sort. I may say that the amount of the annuity I propose to allow you is two hundred a year."

Anna looked for a moment steadily at her sister, whose face was still averted. Then she moved towards the door. Before she pa.s.sed out she turned and faced Sir John. The impa.s.sivity of her features changed at last. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered.

"Really, Sir John," she said, "I don't know how to thank you. I can understand now these newspapers when they talk of your magnificent philanthropy. It is magnificent indeed. And yet--you millionaires should really, I think, cultivate the art of discrimination. I am so much obliged to you for your projected benevolence. Frankly, it is the funniest thing which has ever happened to me in my life. I shall like to think of it--whenever I feel dull. Good-bye, Anna!"

Annabel sprang up. Sir John waved her back.

"Do I understand you then to refuse my offer?" he asked Anna.

She shot a sudden glance at him. Sir John felt hot and furious. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places--that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. Anna went out.