“Read that,” he said, rather coldly. “You seem so ready to suspect me, Gwen, I am glad to be able to give you proofs that I am not deceiving you.”
“Oh, Lawrence!” she said reproachfully; and she had an impulse to put back the letter, saying she required no confirmation of his words, but curiosity checked the generous movement, and she opened and read it instead.
Her face lightened as she perused these lines, which seemed almost like a message from the grave, and when she had finished she said eagerly:
“Why didn’t Miss Pindar produce this letter before?”
“Because she knew nothing of the post-mortem examination, and the suspicious circumstances of his death. She lives in a quiet country place, and seldom sees a newspaper; and when Mrs. O’Hara wrote to say that her brother was dead, Miss Pindar was thankful to let well alone—even tried to persuade herself that he had died by the visitation of God, after all, and not by his own hand.”
“But Mrs. O’Hara knew that I had been unjustly suspected, and should have taken care to exonerate me as quickly as possible.”
“She has only had the letter in her possession for a month, she told me, and did not know of its existence before. She said she meant to send it to Borton Hall directly she heard of our return there; but our chance meeting yesterday has saved her the trouble.”
“And where is she going now?”
“Well, she is going to be married—if that is an answer to your question.”
“To whom?” inquired Lady Gwendolyn, her eyes sparkling. “Any one I know?”