In the meantime, Mr. Eardley, having resolved, if possible, to clear up the mystery, and at least ascertain whether poor Lottie were not unjustly accused of dishonesty, walked over to Wildwaste Lodge. He was much disappointed at not finding Miss Gritton at home, but asked for an interview with her brother.
“Master ain’t very well, he don’t see visitors,” said Hannah, who, grumbling at being left to do all the work of the house, had come out from the kitchen smoothing her soiled apron and pulling down her tucked-up sleeves.
“I have walked from Axe, being anxious to speak on a matter of some importance,” said the heated and weary clergyman. “Pray, ask Mr. Gritton to have the kindness to see me but for five minutes.”
Ushered into the study, Mr. Eardley almost immediately entered on the object of his visit. Gaspar was embarrassed; he had not contemplated the difficulties which must arise from Lottie’s faithful adherence to her promise.
“Really, sir, I can’t be answerable for—I can’t be expected to know anything about the doings of a girl like Lottie.” Gaspar took a large pinch of snuff to cover his embarrassment.
“But what I am most anxious to ascertain is this: has anything been missed here, is there the slightest cause to suspect the young girl of dishonesty?” Gaspar could not meet the gaze of the clear eyes that were fixed upon him.
“No; she’s no thief; she’s awkward, ignorant, but honest—yes, perfectly honest.” The words were spoken as if with effort, and again Gaspar had recourse to his snuff-box.
“That is a great relief to me; that is what I wanted to ascertain. I thank you, Mr. Gritton,” said the clergyman, rising; “I need not longer intrude on your time.”
As Mr. Eardley was about to depart, Isa returned from her fruitless expedition to Axe. To her the presence of the vicar was ever welcome, and more than usually so at the present moment. She eagerly related to him all that had happened, as far as her knowledge extended, emphatically confirming Gaspar’s testimony as to the perfect honesty of poor Lottie.
The interview did not last as long as either Henry Eardley or Isa would have wished, as Hannah came clattering in with the tray to prepare for early dinner. It would have been an act of common courtesy to have asked the weary minister to stop and partake of the meal. Isa glanced at her brother, without whose assent she dared not give the invitation which was upon her lips, but Gaspar did not choose to understand the look; hospitality was foreign to his nature, and to his sister’s mortification he suffered the tired guest to depart unrefreshed.