“We understood each other so well,” she answered, her eyes clouding again. “I can honestly declare that I never had even a thought that wasn’t true to him from the first to the last day of our married life.”
There was a minute’s silence, and then she added tearfully:
“I wish you would tell me how it really happened, Lawrence. Lady Lenox was so very ambiguous and mysterious, and though she means to save me pain, I dare say, I always prefer to know the truth. She hinted something about Lady Gwendolyn St. Maur, and another gentleman being jealous of poor George; but I could not make anything of her story, and she would not explain.”
“Look here, Norah,” he answered, with grave impressiveness. “Your brother is dead, and nothing can call him back now. Take my advice, and do not seek to know anything more, since it would only add to your distress.”
“Not if I could avenge him?”
“That would be a terrible task for a woman.”
“Not at all. I should like it. Indeed, if I could find out that my brother had met with foul play, I would hunt his murderer down, even if he were the best friend I had ever had.”
“The game is not worth the candle, Norah.”
“I think so, at any rate, and am going to Preston on purpose to consult a very clever lawyer there, whom Lady Lenox recommended to me. Poor George left me all he had, so that I shall be able to pursue the matter, if Mr. Barnard advises me to do so.”
“And supposing you were to help destroy an innocent person?”