But Mrs. Barker, though inexperienced in love, was a good fighter.  The best of the sex are.  She dropped into the rocking-chair, and began rocking backwards and forwards while still tugging at her gloves, and said, in a gradually warming voice, “I certainly shall not magnify Mr. Van Loo’s silliness to that importance.  And I have yet to learn what you mean by talking about a rendezvous!  And I want to know,” she continued, suddenly stopping her rocking and tilting the rockers impertinently behind her, as, with her elbows squared on the chair arms, she tilted her own face defiantly up into Mrs. Horncastle’s, “how a woman in your position—­who doesn’t live with her husband—­dares to talk to me!”

There was a lull before the storm.  Mrs. Horncastle approached nearer, and, laying her hand on the back of the chair, leaned over her, and, with a white face and a metallic ring in her voice, said:  “It is just because I am a woman in my position that I do!  It is because I don’t live with my husband that I can tell you what it will be when you no longer live with yours—­which will be the inevitable result of what you are now doing.  It is because I was in this position that the very man who is pursuing you, because he thinks you are discontented with your husband, once thought he could pursue me because I had left mine.  You are here with him alone, without the knowledge of your husband; call it folly, caprice, vanity, or what you like, it can have but one end—­to put you in my place at last, to be considered the fair game afterwards for any man who may succeed him.  You can test him and the truth of what I say by telling him now that I heard all.”

“Suppose he doesn’t care what you have heard,” said Mrs. Barker sharply.  “Suppose he says nobody would believe you, if ‘telling’ is your game.  Suppose he is a friend of my husband and he thinks him a much better guardian of my reputation than a woman like you.  Suppose he should be the first one to tell my husband of the foul slander invented by you!”

For an instant Mrs. Horncastle was taken aback by the audacity of the woman before her.  She knew the simple confidence and boyish trust of Barker in his wife in spite of their sometimes strained relations, and she knew how difficult it would be to shake it.  And she had no idea of betraying Mrs. Barker’s secret to him, though she had made this scene in his interest.  She had wished to save Mrs. Barker from a compromising situation, even if there was a certain vindictiveness in her exposing her to herself.  Yet she knew it was quite possible now, if Mrs. Barker had immediate access to her husband, that she would convince him of her perfect innocence.  Nevertheless, she had still great confidence in Van Loo’s fear of scandal and his utter unmanliness.  She knew he was not in love with Mrs. Barker, and this puzzled her when she considered the evident risk he was running now.  Her face, however, betrayed nothing.  She drew back from Mrs. Barker, and, with an indifferent and graceful gesture towards the door, said, as she leaned against the mantel, “Go, then, and see this much-abused gentleman, and then go together with him and make peace with your husband—­even on those terms.  If I have saved you from the consequences of your folly I shall be willing to bear even his blame.”