"You think you know, Miss Blair, but you are mistaken. I have known the boy longer than you, and I tell you he is guilty."
"You did not see him on Wednesday evening after that scene with you," said Nessa, "and you did not see him yesterday, or you could not think that. He was so sorry for you yesterday, and so anxious to help. If you had seen his white sad face, you could not think it was a pretense. Examine that other boy, and you will see that Murtagh is not guilty."
He replied quietly: "I cannot agree with you, Miss Blair; I am perfectly willing that young O'Toole should be examined, but you have only to count up the evidences of Murtagh's guilt to be yourself convinced of the uselessness of the proceeding; his presence at the fire; his confusion on finding himself discovered; his inability to answer any of the charges made against him. Directly he left his uncle's presence he rushed off to O'Toole's cottage. What could he have wanted there if not to beg Pat to keep his secret safe? His very anxiety about my poor child is only another reason for believing him guilty. He dislikes me; he has no affection for her; and I cannot believe he would have displayed such excessive anxiety had he not been smitten with remorse and terror at the consequences of his act. If he had come forward and confessed openly, instead of allowing the blame to be half-shifted on to another, I might have entertained some softer feeling towards him, but, as it is, I feel nothing but a just anger and contempt. He has shown himself not only revengeful but cowardly and dishonorable."
In vain Nessa pleaded Murtagh's cause. Mr. Plunkett had covered himself again with his usual shell, and words had no effect.
At last she appealed to justice. "You ought to believe he is speaking the truth till you are quite sure he is not," she said. "You have not yet made any search among the people in the country."
"I am willing that every inquiry should be made, but I am perfectly convinced of his guilt, and so long as he remains hardened in denial, he must expect nothing but the utmost severity from me."
They had reached the gravel sweep that divided the park from the house, and he bowed and left her. As she entered the hall she met Murtagh, who had been watching her from Frankie's window, and who now came running down to know how little Marion was.
"Better," said Nessa, "much better."
"You're dreadfully tired, aren't you?" said Murtagh.
"Yes," said Winnie, "of course she must be after being up all night. Come along, Myrrh, we'll get her some tea. And you go and lie down in your room," she added.