And from the great, wide world without, tremulous with moonlight, the echo seemed to come back:
"Woe to thee, Agnes Halliday, if this be so!"
XX
A SURPRISE FOR MR. SUTHERLAND
Meanwhile Mr. Sutherland and Frederick stood facing each other in the former's library. Nothing had been said during their walk down the hill, and nothing seemed likely to proceed from Frederick now, though his father waited with great and growing agitation for some explanation that would relieve the immense strain on his heart. At last he himself spoke, dryly, as we all speak when the heart is fullest and we fear to reveal the depth of our emotions.
"What papers were those you gave into Agnes Halliday's keeping? Anything which we could not have more safely, not to say discreetly, harboured in our own house?"
Frederick, taken aback, for he had not realised that his father had seen these papers, hesitated for a moment; then he boldly said:
"They were letters—old letters—which I felt to be better out of this house than in it. I could not destroy them, so I gave them into the guardianship of the most conscientious person I know. I hope you won't demand to see those letters. Indeed, sir, I hope you won't demand to see them. They were not written for your eye, and I would rather rest under your displeasure than have them in any way made public."
Frederick showed such earnestness, rather than fear, that Mr. Sutherland was astonished.
"When were these letters written?" he asked. "Lately, or before—You say they are old; how old?"