For an hour or two it was only Antony’s danger and shame, only Antony’s crime, she could think of. But when the reaction came she perceived that she must work as well as pray. Two questions first suggested themselves for her solution.
Should she go to Whaley for advice, or act entirely on her own responsibility?
Would she be able to influence Page and Thorley, the bankers who held her brother’s forged notes, by a personal visit?
She dismissed all efforts at reasoning, she determined to let herself be guided by those impressions which we call “instinct.” She could not reason, but she tried to feel. And she felt most decidedly that she would have no counselor but her own heart. She, would doubtless do what any lawyer would call “foolish things;” but that was a case where “foolishness” might be the highest wisdom. She said to herself, “My intellect is often at fault, but where Antony and Hallam are concerned I am sure that I can trust my heart.”
As to Page and Thorley, she knew that they had had frequently business transactions with her father. Mr. Thorley had once been at the hall; he would know thoroughly the value of the proposal she intended making them; and, upon the whole, it appeared to be the wisest plan to see them personally. In fact, she did not feel as if she could endure the delay and the uncertainty of a correspondence on the subject.
The morning of the second day after Antony’s flight she was in London. In business an Englishman throws over politeness. He says, “How do you do?” very much as if he was saying, “Leave me alone;” and he is not inclined to answer questions, save, by “yes” or “no.” Elizabeth perceived at once that tears or weakness would damage her cause, and that the only way to meet Antony’s wrong was to repair it, and to do this in the plainest and simplest manner possible.
“I am Miss Hallam.”
“Take a seat, Miss Hallam.”
“You hold two notes of my brothers, one purporting to be drawn by Lord Eltham for L9,000; the other by Squire Francis Horton for L9,600.”
“Yes; why ‘purporting?’”