"Poor mamma! it must have been a great shock to you. Sit down, and I will tell you all that I know."
And gently pressing Lady Alice back into a seat, Lesley took a footstool at her mother's knee and told her the story. Lady Alice listened in silence. With one hand she stroked Lesley's hair; with the other she held Lesley's fingers, and Lesley noticed that it twitched from time to time as if in nervous agitation. Otherwise, however, she was very calm.
"And so," she said, at last, "you came to tell me the story as you know it.... But, my child, you have told me very little that I did not know already. Even in last
night's papers the relationship between Oliver Trent and these people in Whitechapel was commented on. And your own name, my darling—that did not escape. Did you think I should misunderstand you?"
"Oh, no, mamma—not misunderstand me, but I was afraid lest you might misunderstand some one else."
Lady Alice was silent.
"I was afraid," said Lesley, softly, "lest the years that have gone by should have made you forget his gentleness and nobleness of soul—lest for one moment you should think him capable of a mean or vile action. I came to tell you, dearest mother, how impossible it was for us—who know him—to credit for one moment an accusation of this kind. If all the world said that he was guilty, you and I, mamma, would know that he was not."
"My child, my darling, you must speak for yourself. Do not try to speak for me!"
"Mother, won't you give me a message for him?"
"Are you going to see him, Lesley?"