"And before that——?" he asked, in rather a peculiar tone.
"Before that—I went to see mamma." And Lesley looked bravely up into his face.
"That was an infringement of contract, as I suppose you know," said Caspar, smiling persistently. "But it does not matter very much. What did 'mamma' say to you?"
"I—don't—know," murmured Lesley, confused by the question. "Nothing very much."
"Nothing. Ah, I know what that means." He turned away from her, and, sitting down, leaned his elbows upon a table, and played with his beard. "It was useless, Lesley," he said, quietly, after a few minutes' silence. "Your mother is the last person whose sympathies will be enlisted on my side."
Lesley tried to speak but suddenly felt her voice fail her; so instead of speaking she knelt down by her father, leaned her head upon his shoulder, and burst into very heartfelt tears.
"Little one," said Caspar, "I'm
afraid we have both got ourselves into a mess."
It did not sound comforting, but Lesley stayed her tears to listen.
"I have been talking to Grierson," her father continued, "and we have agreed that there must be no suppression of the truth. My dislike to Oliver Trent has been commented on already, and I must give a reason for it. Lesley, my dear, you will have to contribute your own evidence as to the reason."