“And doubly dangerous. Every one liked him, and we were all more together than was prudent. At last, two thousand pounds of my mother’s money, which was passing through the Proudfoots’ hands, disappeared; and at the same time poor Archie fled. No one who knew him could have any reasonable doubt that he did but bear the blame of some one else’s guilt, most likely that of George Proudfoot; but he died a year or two back without a word, and no proof has ever been found; and alas! the week after Archie sailed, we saw his name in the list of sufferers in a vessel that was burnt. His mother happily had died before all this, but there were plenty to grieve bitterly for him; and poor Jenny has been the more like one of ourselves in consequence. He had left a note for Jenny, and she always trusted him; and we all of us believe that he was innocent.”
“I can’t think how a person can go about as usual, or ever get over such a thing as that.”
“Perhaps she hasn’t,” said Raymond, with a little colour on his brown cheek. “But I’m afraid I can’t make those visits with you to-day. I am wanted to see the plans for the new town-hall at Wil’sbro’. Will you pick me up there?”
“There would be sure to be a dreadful long waiting, so I will luncheon at Sirenwood instead; Lady Tyrrell asked me to come over any day.”
“Alone? I think you had better wait for me.”
“I can take Frank.”
“I should prefer a regular invitation to us both.”
“She did not mean to make a formal affair.”
“Forms are a protection, and I do not wish for an intimacy there, especially on Frank’s account.”
“It would be an excellent match for Frank.”