You know you like this girl."
"Well, sir?"
"And you know--and I know--that you have not sent her away for the reasons you have assigned, but for the purpose of separating her as much as possible from--excuse my mentioning it as a matter of business--any reproach and exposure that impend over yourself."
"Well, sir?"
"Well, Lady Dedlock," returns the lawyer, crossing his legs and nursing the uppermost knee. "I object to that.
I consider that a dangerous proceeding.
I know it to be unnecessary and calculated to awaken speculation, doubt, rumour, I don't know what, in the house.
Besides, it is a violation of our agreement.
You were to be exactly what you were before.
Whereas, it must be evident to yourself, as it is to me, that you have been this evening very different from what you were before.
Why, bless my soul, Lady Dedlock, transparently so!"
"If, sir," she begins, "in my knowledge of my secret--" But he interrupts her.
"Now, Lady Dedlock, this is a matter of business, and in a matter of business the ground cannot be kept too clear.
It is no longer your secret.
Excuse me.
That is just the mistake.
It is my secret, in trust for Sir Leicester and the family.
If it were your secret, Lady Dedlock, we should not be here holding this conversation."
"That is very true.
If in my knowledge of THE secret I do what I can to spare an innocent girl (especially, remembering your own reference to her when you told my story to the assembled guests at Chesney Wold) from the taint of my impending shame, I act upon a resolution I have taken.
Nothing in the world, and no one in the world, could shake it or could move me."
This she says with great deliberation and distinctness and with no more outward passion than himself.
As for him, he methodically discusses his matter of business as if she were any insensible instrument used in business.
"Really?
Then you see, Lady Dedlock," he returns, "you are not to be trusted.
You have put the case in a perfectly plain way, and according to the literal fact; and that being the case, you are not to be trusted."
"Perhaps you may remember that I expressed some anxiety on this same point when we spoke at night at Chesney Wold?"
"Yes," says Mr. Tulkinghorn, coolly getting up and standing on the hearth.
"Yes.
I recollect, Lady Dedlock, that you certainly referred to the girl, but that was before we came to our arrangement, and both the letter and the spirit of our arrangement altogether precluded any action on your part founded upon my discovery.
There can be no doubt about that.
As to sparing the girl, of what importance or value is she?
Spare!
Lady Dedlock, here is a family name compromised.
One might have supposed that the course was straight on--over everything, neither to the right nor to the left, regardless of all considerations in the way, sparing nothing, treading everything under foot."
She has been looking at the table.
She lifts up her eyes and looks at him.
There is a stern expression on her face and a part of her lower lip is compressed under her teeth.
"This woman understands me," Mr. Tulkinghorn thinks as she lets her glance fall again. "SHE cannot be spared.
Why should she spare others?"
For a little while they are silent.
Lady Dedlock has eaten no dinner, but has twice or thrice poured out water with a steady hand and drunk it.
She rises from table, takes a lounging-chair, and reclines in it, shading her face.
There is nothing in her manner to express weakness or excite compassion.
It is thoughtful, gloomy, concentrated.
"This woman," thinks Mr. Tulkinghorn, standing on the hearth, again a dark object closing up her view, "is a study."
He studies her at his leisure, not speaking for a time.
She too studies something at her leisure.
She is not the first to speak, appearing indeed so unlikely to be so, though he stood there until midnight, that even he is driven upon breaking silence.
"Lady Dedlock, the most disagreeable part of this business interview remains, but it is business.