“To have ME know it?”
He laughed again, and Anna, at his laugh, felt a sudden rush of indignation.
“Owen, you must explain what you mean!”
He looked at her hard before answering; then: “Ask Darrow!” he said.
“Owen—Owen!” Sophy Viner murmured.
XXIV
Anna stood looking from one to the other. It had become apparent to her in a flash that Owen’s retort, though it startled Sophy, did not take her by surprise; and the discovery shot its light along dark distances of fear.
The immediate inference was that Owen had guessed the reason of Darrow’s disapproval of his marriage, or that, at least, he suspected Sophy Viner of knowing and dreading it. This confirmation of her own obscure doubt sent a tremor of alarm through Anna. For a moment she felt like exclaiming: “All this is really no business of mine, and I refuse to have you mix me up in it—” but her secret fear held her fast.
Sophy Viner was the first to speak.
“I should like to go now,” she said in a low voice, taking a few steps toward the door.
Her tone woke Anna to the sense of her own share in the situation. “I quite agree with you, my dear, that it’s useless to carry on this discussion. But since Mr. Darrow’s name has been brought into it, for reasons which I fail to guess, I want to tell you that you’re both mistaken if you think he’s not in sympathy with your marriage. If that’s what Owen means to imply, the idea’s a complete delusion.”
She spoke the words deliberately and incisively, as if hoping that the sound of their utterance would stifle the whisper in her bosom.
Sophy’s only answer was a vague murmur, and a movement that brought her nearer to the door; but before she could reach it Owen had placed himself in her way.
“I don’t mean to imply what you think,” he said, addressing his step-mother but keeping his eyes on the girl. “I don’t say Darrow doesn’t like our marriage; I say it’s Sophy who’s hated it since Darrow’s been here!”
He brought out the charge in a tone of forced composure, but his lips were white and he grasped the doorknob to hide the tremor of his hand.
Anna’s anger surged up with her fears. “You’re absurd, Owen! I don’t know why I listen to you. Why should Sophy dislike Mr. Darrow, and if she does, why should that have anything to do with her wishing to break her engagement?”
“I don’t say she dislikes him! I don’t say she likes him; I don’t know what it is they say to each other when they’re shut up together alone.”
“Shut up together alone?” Anna stared. Owen seemed like a man in delirium; such an exhibition was degrading to them all. But he pushed on without seeing her look.
“Yes—the first evening she came, in the study; the next morning, early, in the park; yesterday, again, in the spring-house, when you were at the lodge with the doctor…I don’t know what they say to each other, but they’ve taken every chance they could to say it…and to say it when they thought that no one saw them.”
Anna longed to silence him, but no words came to her. It was as though all her confused apprehensions had suddenly taken definite shape. There was “something”—yes, there was “something”…Darrow’s reticences and evasions had been more than a figment of her doubts.
The next instant brought a recoil of pride. She turned indignantly on her stepson.
“I don’t half understand what you’ve been saying; but what you seem to hint is so preposterous, and so insulting both to Sophy and to me, that I see no reason why we should listen to you any longer.”
Though her tone steadied Owen, she perceived at once that it would not deflect him from his purpose. He spoke less vehemently, but with all the more precision.
“How can it be preposterous, since it’s true? Or insulting, since I don’t know, any more than YOU, the meaning of what I’ve been seeing? If you’ll be patient with me I’ll try to put it quietly. What I mean is that Sophy has completely changed since she met Darrow here, and that, having noticed the change, I’m hardly to blame for having tried to find out its cause.”
Anna made an effort to answer him with the same composure. “You’re to blame, at any rate, for so recklessly assuming that you HAVE found it out. You seem to forget that, till they met here, Sophy and Mr. Darrow hardly knew each other.”
“If so, it’s all the stranger that they’ve been so often closeted together!”
“Owen, Owen—” the girl sighed out.
He turned his haggard face to her. “Can I help it, if I’ve seen and known what I wasn’t meant to? For God’s sake give me a reason—any reason I can decently make out with! Is it my fault if, the day after you arrived, when I came back late through the garden, the curtains of the study hadn’t been drawn, and I saw you there alone with Darrow?”
Anna laughed impatiently. “Really, Owen, if you make it a grievance that two people who are staying in the same house should be seen talking together–-!”
“They were not talking. That’s the point–-“
“Not talking? How do you know? You could hardly hear them from the garden!”
“No; but I could see. HE was sitting at my desk, with his face in his hands. SHE was standing in the window, looking away from him…”
He waited, as if for Sophy Viner’s answer; but still she neither stirred nor spoke.
“That was the first time,” he went on; “and the second was the next morning in the park. It was natural enough, their meeting there. Sophy had gone out with Effie, and Effie ran back to look for me. She told me she’d left
