"But, darling," urged Jim Airth, "it is not yet too late. Oh, Myra, I
have loved you so! Our love has been so wonderful. Have I not taught you
what love is? The poor cold travesty you knew before--_that_ was not
love! Oh, Myra! you will come away with me, my own beloved? You won't put
me through the hell of leaving you to another man? Myra, look at me! Say
you will come."

Then Lady Ingleby slowly closed the fan, grasping it firmly in her right
hand. She threw back her head, and looked Jim Airth full in the eyes.

"So _this_ is your love," she said. "This is what it means? Then I thank
God I have hitherto only known the 'cold travesty,' which at least has
kept me pure, and held me high. What? Would you drag _me_ down to the
level of the woman you have scorned for a dozen years? And, dragging me
down, would you also trail, with me, in the mire, the noble name of the
man whom you have ventured to call friend? My husband may not have given
me much of those things a woman desires. But he has trusted me with his
name, and with his honour; he has left me, mistress of his home. When he
comes back he will find me what he himself made me--mistress of
Shenstone; he will find me where he left me, awaiting his return. You are
no longer speaking to a widow, Lord Airth; nor to a woman left desolate.
You are speaking to Lord Ingleby's wife, and you may as well learn how
Lord Ingleby's wife guards Lord Ingleby's name, and defends her own
honour, and his." She lifted her hand swiftly and struck him, with the
ivory fan, twice across the cheek. "Traitor!" she said, "and coward!
Leave this house, and never set foot in it again!"

Jim Airth staggered back, his face livid--ashen, his hand involuntarily
raised to ward off a third blow. Then the furious blood surged back. Two
crimson streaks marked his cheek. He sprang forward; with a swift
movement caught the fan from Lady Ingleby's hands, and whirled it above
his head. His eyes blazed into hers. For a moment she thought he was
going to strike her. She neither flinched nor moved; only the faintest
smile curved the corners of her mouth into a scornful question.

Then Jim Airth gripped the fan in both hands; with a twist of his strong
fingers snapped it in half, the halves into quarters, and again, with
another wrench, crushed those into a hundred fragments--flung them at her
feet; and, turning on his heel, left the room, and left the house.

CHAPTER XXIII

WHAT BILLY KNEW

Rona