After breakfast, Lord Charvington carried off his pretty little guest to a noble room lined with books, and placing her in a most comfortable arm-chair, took his own seat at his desk. "Now, my child, what is it?" he asked.
"It is rather difficult to begin," faltered Lesbia, feeling if she had the fatal letter in her pocket.
"Not with me, my dear. You know that you can trust me implicitly."
"Yes," said Lesbia, raising her clear eyes to the kind face. "Well then I shall begin from the time I gave George the amethyst cross."
"What?" Charvington's ruddy face grew pale, and he pushed back his chair with considerable violence; "the amethyst cross!"
"Do you know anything about it?" asked Lesbia, astonished by his change of colour and evident emotion. "It is lost you know--stolen."
"Who stole it?" demanded the man mastering himself with an apparent effort.
"Listen," said Lesbia, and related everything from the time George Walker had proposed to the moment of Lady Charvington's arrival at Rose Cottage. But for the moment she said nothing of the letter from Canning. That could keep until she heard what Charvington had to say to the first part of her story. And it may be mentioned that Lesbia spared her father as much as possible, while explaining her difficulties.
After his first violent movement, Lord Charvington listened in dead silence, and his colour slowly returned. With his eyes averted, he heard the whole extraordinary tale, without interruption, and only when it was concluded did he speak. Then he gave but small comfort. "I cannot understand what it all means," he said slowly. "I shall see Hale, and doubtless he will be able to explain matters. But have no fear, child, if you love George Walker, you shall marry him. I know Mrs. Walker, and I knew her husband. A wild fellow was Aylmer Walker, but not without his good points."
"And you won't let my father have me watched again," said Lesbia anxiously.