‘And God has heard the oath,’ said Philip, solemnly. ‘Come, Frederick, the carriage is waiting at the door. Do not prolong this trying scene any more.’
‘Shall I see anybody?’ asked his cousin in a fearful manner, as they gained the outside of the door at last; ‘shall we encounter either of those men again, Crampton or Hindes, I mean, or those dreadful creatures who wanted to accuse me—My God, Philip,’ he continued, stopping short, ‘of what was it they wanted to accuse me?’
‘Of nothing, nothing, Frederick,’ replied Philip, soothingly, ‘you must not think of it again. It is the business of a jury to make everything look as black as possible, and they never think of the pain they may inflict by their unworthy suspicions. Try and forget it, with all the other incidents of this most trying day. You will meet no one, unless it be the people of the house. You may take my word for that! Just put yourself in my hands and I will manage everything for us both.’
Frederick was only too thankful to be relieved of all responsibility, for he was utterly worn-out with grief, and incapable of thinking or acting for himself, so he clung to the arm of his cousin, who hurried him into the carriage and off to the railway station before he hardly knew where they were going. But as they neared London, he roused himself sufficiently to ask their destination.
‘I intend to take you to my house first,’ replied Philip, cheerfully, ‘for you are not fit in your present condition to look after yourself, nor would I allow you to go back alone to your flat in Nevern Mansions. In our house you shall have a couple of rooms to yourself, and Marion will take care that you are undisturbed. When you are better, you shall decide what to do. At present you must resign yourself into my hands.’
Frederick pressed his cousin’s hand and murmured ‘Thank you,’ without making the slightest objection to the plan.
He was, indeed, too intensely miserable and worn-out to care about anything, and when their journey came to an end, he allowed Philip to do with him exactly as he chose.
CHAPTER II.
A telegraphic message, early in the day, had told Mrs Walcheren the time to expect them, and warned her to keep herself and the children out of the way, so that, when the travellers arrived in Kensington Gardens Square, they encountered no one but the servant who opened the door to them, and Frederick was conveyed to his apartments, without meeting another soul. Two rooms, adjoining one another, had been prepared for his reception, and, as he cast himself languidly upon a couch, he stretched out his hand to his cousin.
‘What you have done for me yesterday and to-day, Philip, I shall never forget, and can never repay. I think you have saved my reason. God bless you for it!’