“Which I did,” says Twemlow.
“And for doing which, I thank you; though, indeed, I scarcely know why I turned traitress to my husband in the matter, for the girl is a poor little fool. I was a poor little fool once myself; I can find no better reason.” Seeing the effect she produces on him by her indifferent laugh and cold look, she keeps her eyes upon him as she proceeds. “ Mr. Twemlow, if you should chance to see my husband, or to see me, or to see both of us, in the favour or confidence of anyone else—whether of our common acquaintance or not, is of no consequence—you have no right to use against us the knowledge I entrusted you with, for one special purpose which has been accomplished. This is what I came to say. It is not a stipulation; to a gentleman it is simply a reminder.”
Twemlow sits murmuring to himself with his hand to his forehead.
“It is so plain a case,” Mrs. Lammle goes on, “as between me (from the first relying on your honour) and you, that I will not waste another word upon it.” She looks steadily at Mr. Twemlow, until, with a shrug, he makes her a little one-sided bow, as though saying “Yes, I think you have a right to rely upon me,” and then she moistens her lips, and shows a sense of relief.
“I trust I have kept the promise I made through your servant, that I would detain you a very few minutes. I need trouble you no longer, Mr. Twemlow.”
“Stay!” says Twemlow, rising as she rises. “Pardon me a moment. I should never have sought you out, madam, to say what I am going to say, but since you have sought me out and are here, I will throw it off my mind. Was it quite consistent, in candour, with our taking that resolution against Mr. Fledgeby, that you should afterwards address Mr. Fledgeby as your dear and confidential friend, and entreat a favour of Mr. Fledgeby? Always supposing that you did; I assert no knowledge of my own on the subject; it has been represented to me that you did.”