"My dear, I said nothing of the sort," protested the embarrassed Mr. Cass. "All the same, I wish he had not set his heart on you."
"Oh, he has not done that, or he would not have been so ready to give me up."
"My dear, you do not understand."
Ruth went away thinking over this last speech. "No," she murmured to herself, "I do not understand, but I shall soon. I ought to hear from Geoffrey in a few days. After all, I am really beginning to think I like him better than Neil. What Jennie said was quite right, although I would not for the world acknowledge it to her. I am not the wife for a man like him. I want to be considered, and I am sure Geoffrey would do all in his power to please me and to make me happy. Neil? Well, I think he might have been rather a trial."
A week after Neil's departure, Mr. Cass received a letter from him which caused the worthy merchant much perplexity. He shut himself up in his library to think it over. Webster had gone away with the fullest intention of proving his mother's innocence, yet this short letter intimated that he had abandoned the idea. "I have seen my mother," he wrote, "and I see it is best to take your advice and let sleeping dogs lie. I am going abroad shortly, and it is not likely that I shall see you for many months. Never again will I come to your house; and I only hope that you will impress upon Ruth the necessity of forgetting me as speedily as possible. I cannot trust myself to see her again, so I must leave this task to you."
"Poor lad!" sighed Mr. Cass, as he finished the letter. "It is bitter for him that he should have to suffer for the sins of his parents. But I wonder why he has stopped short in his endeavour to prove Mrs. Jenner's innocence? What can she have said to him? I have a good mind to see him--or her," he added as an after-thought; then changed his mind. "No, it would only revive sad memories. The matter is settled by this letter, and it is best to let sleeping dogs lie. I will think no more of it."
So he said, but so he did not do. His conscience frequently took pleasure in reminding him of the whole story, and despite all his philosophical resolves to "let sleeping dogs lie," he knew very well that he ought to rouse them. But this he could not bring himself to do. Too much was at stake, and a bolder man than Mr. Cass would have shrank from the consequences. In this frame of mind he did his best to argue that he was right, and--he failed in the attempt.
Meanwhile Geoffrey was in town. He had learnt from Ruth that Neil occupied rooms in the Waverley Hotel in Cherry-square, a quiet, unpretentious establishment.
Three times Heron called at the hotel, only to be told that Mr. Webster was out of town. The fourth time he was more lucky and found the young man at home.
Neil Webster looked extremely ill; dark circles under his eyes told of sleepless nights, and his restless movements hinted at a nervous system which had gone to pieces. Moreover, his lips were dry, his eyes feverishly bright.