Lettice and Robert stood facing each other. “How could you? How could you?” Lettice murmured. “This dark suspicion has blighted all the memory of our happy hours.”
“This dark suspicion, indeed,” replied the young man.
“And you will not clear yourself, will not tell me?” she said eagerly. “But give up the papers, and I will screen you and will think of you as gently as I can.”
“I have said that I have no papers.”
Lettice wrung her hands. “O dear! O dear! if you would but be candid and tell me, I could help you, I could indeed. For the sake of our past friendship, will you not tell me?”
He came to her side. “Lettice,” he began; then dropping the hand he had taken, he turned away. “’Twould be no use,” he said. “Farewell, the dream is over. Tell your friend that I shall not run away either from arrest or from him.” And he sprang on his horse and disappeared into the woods, leaving Lettice with her face buried in her hands.
She brushed away her tears as Mr. Baldwin approached, and stood ready to mount her horse again. They were fairly on their way when he spoke. “This is a hard ordeal for a young lady to go through, Miss Hopkins, but I cannot leave the subject just yet. You are very positive that my late adversary, whose name, by the way, I do not know, is the one who took the papers?”
“No, I am not certain. I only think so because he saw me secure them, and because he is violently opposed to the war, and belongs to the Peace party. I know he has been very energetic in working for his side.”
“It looks suspicious, certainly.”
“Yet it would be a shame to arrest a man, unless we were sure.”