Laura tried to say that appearances were against Guy, but he would not hear.
‘If they were, I triumphed in them. I see now that a shade of honest desire to see him exculpated would have enabled me to find the clue. If I had gone to St. Mildred’s at once—interrogated him as a friend—seen Wellwood—but dwelling on the ifs of the last two years can bring nothing but distraction,’ he added, pausing suddenly.
‘And remember,’ said Laura, ‘that dear Guy himself was always grateful to you. He always upheld that you acted for his good. Oh! the way he took it was the one comfort I had last year.’
‘The acutest sting, and yet the only balm,’ murmured Philip; ‘see, Laura,’ and he opened the first leaf of Guy’s prayer-book, which he had been using at the christening.
A whispered ‘Dear Guy!’ was the best answer she could make, and the tears were in her eyes. ‘He was so very kind to me, when he saw me that unhappy wedding-day.’
‘Did Amy tell you his last words to me?’
‘No,’ said Laura.
‘God bless you and my sister!’ he repeated, so low that she could hardly hear.
‘Amy left that for you to tell,’ said Laura, as her tears streamed fast. How can we speak of her, Philip?’
‘Only as an angel of pardon and peace!’ he answered.