XIX

It seemed to Mrs. Payne an endless time before she heard the steps of Gabrielle returning. She thanked heaven when she knew that she was coming back alone. The bedroom door closed and the sound pulled her together. It suggested to her that the time had now come when something must be done, and though it would have been much pleasanter to let the matter stand over until the morning, she knew that nothing could be gained by waiting, since all of the three people concerned were at that moment awake, and the crisis of the affair had been reached.

The reasons that had dissuaded her from tackling Arthur himself when first her suspicions were aroused still held. She regarded a scene with him as dangerous, for she could not be certain that a big emotional disturbance would not throw him back into his old nature, quite apart from the fact that it would wound her motherly heart. Against Gabrielle, on the other hand, she knew that she could steel herself. Gabrielle was a woman, a woman younger than herself, and, what was more, a visitor in her house. She was satisfied that she could tell Gabrielle what she thought of her, and, in a single interview bring this most uncomfortable and dangerous state of affairs to an end.

She got out of bed again and dressed methodically. This time she wasn't going to put up with any condition that detracted from her dignity. So, having done her hair afresh and satisfied herself that all traces of her breakdown had disappeared, she set out with a high degree of confidence to Gabrielle's room. There was no light in it, but while she stood at the door she heard Gabrielle softly singing to herself inside. Singing!

... Mrs. Payne hardened her heart and knocked at the door. The singing stopped. There was no other sound. Then she knocked again. She heard a soft rustle as Gabrielle stepped to the door. The door opened, and Gabrielle, in her nightdress and bare feet, stood before her. She stared at Mrs. Payne. Who could guess that she knew the reason of her visit?

She only said: "Oh ... it's you! I wondered...."

"May I come in?" said Mrs. Payne in a hard voice. As a matter of fact nothing could have stopped her going in.

"Of course," said Gabrielle. "Do...." She shivered slightly.

"You'd better put on a dressing-gown," said Mrs. Payne firmly. "I want to talk to you."

Gabrielle obeyed her, like a small child, slipped an embroidered kimono over her shoulders and stood facing Mrs. Payne. She looked her straight in the eyes, and said in a low voice: "Well, what is it?"

"We won't pretend," said Mrs. Payne. "You know quite well what it is."

"Yes ... I suppose you mean Arthur."

"And you."

"You saw us go out to-night ... heard us?"

"Yes."

Gabrielle made a gesture of impatience. "Well, why shouldn't we? It was the nightingale. Why shouldn't we listen to a nightingale? I'd never heard one."

"I followed you into the garden."

"That was a mean thing to do!"

"Perhaps it was. No ... I'd a right to do it. I saw everything that happened."

"When we kissed each other?"

Mrs. Payne nodded. Gabrielle looked at her challengingly. "It was the first time," she said. There was a pause and then she burst out pa.s.sionately. "I love him ... we love each other. You can't stop us!"

"It's got to be stopped," said Mrs. Payne.

Gabrielle turned away and perched herself on the end of the bed. She appeared to be thinking, and when next she spoke it was almost dreamily.

"It was the first time. We didn't know before to-night."

There was nothing dreamy about Mrs. Payne's reply. She believed that Gabrielle was acting a part, and had no patience with her.

"That's rubbish," she said. "I don't believe it."

Gabrielle jumped to her feet and faced her again, blazing with pride and anger and amazingly beautiful.

"You don't believe me? How dare you? I've told you that we didn't know.

I don't tell lies. You're insulting me...."

She was so pa.s.sionate that Mrs. Payne was almost convinced. She softened for a moment. "After all, you _ought_ to have known," she said. "You're a married woman."

"Married ..." Gabrielle repeated. "Yes ... but I didn't know. I've told you I didn't. That's enough."

"Well, if you didn't know, I _did_," said Mrs. Payne with a laugh.

"How? Tell me how?"

"It wasn't difficult to see."

"I can't imagine it. But I know nothing of love. Only once..." and Gabrielle relapsed into her dream, standing with her hand on the bedpost gazing towards the window. After a second she turned again quickly.

"Then, if you knew, was that why you invited me here?"

Mrs. Payne said: "Yes----"

"Why didn't you tell me instead of doing that?"

"I wanted to make certain."

"Why didn't you tell my husband?"

"For your sake. I wanted to save you."

"No, you didn't... You weren't thinking of me. You were thinking of Arthur."

This was perfectly true, but Mrs. Payne had not gone through h.e.l.l to discuss fine points of that kind. She had left her room in very much the same frame of mind as she would have adopted in approaching the dismissal of a servant. She had expected to be met with pa.s.sionate denials, had prepared herself, indeed, for a stormy "scene"; instead of which Gabrielle appeared to be curious rather than disturbed about her discovery, and a great deal more interested in the psychological than in the practical aspects of the case. If she had offered any violent opposition to Mrs. Payne, Mrs. Payne could have given her violence in return. But she didn't. The mood of exaltation into which their love-making had lifted her made her regard this woman with something nearer to pity than dislike. Her att.i.tude implied that to consider the practical aspect of the affair would be in the nature of a condescension.

Mrs. Payne naturally resented this, but in any case Gabrielle had taken the wind out of her sails. They were drifting--rather unpleasantly--away from the object of her visit. She pulled herself--and then Gabrielle--up short.

"You can't pretend not to realise the seriousness of your position," she said. "You're a married woman. If you persist in this madness you'll ruin your whole life. I'll be candid with you. What happens to you doesn't matter to me; but what happens to Arthur does. Can't you see the end of it?"

"No ... it's only begun...."

"Then I'll tell you the end. Your husband will divorce you."

"Then I shall be free? And why not? We don't love each other. Why should we go on living together? The thought of him makes me shudder ...

now."

"That is your affair. I'm afraid I can't help you in it. But Arthur is mine. I'm not going to see him dragged into this ... impossibility. No ... we can't discuss it like this. You may be as innocent as you pretend to be--though it's difficult to believe it. You imagine you're in love.

You're drifting out of an ordinary sort of friendship into ... what I saw to-night. Well, that can only lead to the most awful unhappiness for all of us. You must consider it finished. We won't have any disturbance; but, all the same, you can't see Arthur again. We'll invent some reason to explain your going away to-morrow ... something plausible ... to satisfy him. With your husband it will be more difficult. But I'm prepared to help you. It can be managed without any scandal if we work together... I'm sure you'll agree with me and be sensible about it. If you won't, I can't answer for the consequences."

Mrs. Payne was presuming too much. All the time that she spoke Gabrielle sat with lowered eyes, motionless but for little protesting movements of her hands; now she turned upon her, speaking very low and rapidly.