“I wish to say something.”
“Certainly, Mr Spencer. It is my duty to ask you if Mr Spencer Crichton has stated the facts correctly.”
“Yes,” said Arthur. “Those are the facts; but my cousin has given you a wrong impression. He did not, I am sure, see where she was when he fired, and—and—we were at some distance. He could not know, as I do, how easily she is startled.”
“I did know it, Arthur,” said Hugh passionately. “I did know where she was!”
“It might have happened to me,” said Arthur, earnestly. “Indeed, there is no blame.”
“You thought so then,” cried Hugh, losing all sense of the listeners. “You pushed me back; you would not let me touch her! What wonder if you cursed the day I was born!”
“Hugh, hush!” interposed Arthur. “That can do no good.”
“Yes, Mr Crichton,” said the coroner, “it would be better to control yourself. Mr Spencer’s language is generous in the extreme. Of course, no one could doubt for a moment that this unhappy event was entirely accidental; but it is never safe to disregard a warning as to fire-arms, however apparently superfluous. Of course, we can feel and express nothing but the profoundest sympathy for yourself and for all those for whom the neighbourhood entertains such high respect.”
There was no hesitation as to the verdict; and when it was over, and those engaged began to disperse, Arthur went up to Hugh and laid his hand on his arm and said:
“Come, Hugh, let us get home—that will be best for us.”