"I see, dearest Rose," he said, "that you have made a confidant of your sister, and I am delighted that it is so; but I must not let my hopes carry me too far, and lead me to believe that the pain and anxiety which you must have suffered, have driven you to communicate all that is between us to your father and your uncle."
"I did not know that I might, Chandos," she answered: "in the dreadful state of suspense and anguish in which your trial placed me, I could not, indeed, refrain from sharing my thoughts with poor Emily. Thus much, however, I thought myself bound to tell my father--that I had known your real name from the moment you came to Northferry--that we had met before, and passed one long, happy day together; but that you had exacted from me a promise not to betray you, because you particularly wished your brother not to know where you were. My father asked but one question, which was, whether I believed I was myself in any degree the cause of your coming to Northferry? I replied, certainly not; for that I had every reason to believe you did not know that I was there, or was his daughter. This seemed to satisfy him perfectly; but indeed he has had so many painful things to think of, that I do not wonder at his giving no further attention to the subject. With my uncle, it is very different; for I am sure he suspects, if he does not know the whole. You have heard, of course, the sad change of fortune we have met with. My father is at liberty now, on what they call bail, I believe; but I tremble every moment, for what each ensuing day may produce. It is supposed, that the man who has carried away all the shares, and bonds, and papers of that kind, does not intend to sell them; as there would be difficulty and danger in so doing, even in a foreign country; but is likely to negociate with my father for the restitution, in consideration of a sum of money, and indemnity for the past. Nothing has been heard of him, however; and in the meantime it is ruin to my father."
"Has no part of his course been traced, dear Rose?" asked Chandos.
"It was at first supposed he had gone to the Continent," replied his fair companion; "but every inquiry has been made at the passport offices, and no trace of a person of his peculiar appearance can be found at any of those places. They now fear that he may have escaped to America."
"He is not a man to be mistaken," said Chandos: "I saw him once when I was travelling up to London in January; and in the public carriage itself he could not refrain from making use of your father's name to entrap others. He tempted even me, Rose, poor as I am: and those words bring me, dear girl, to matters which had better be spoken of at once--spoken of even between you and me, although, perhaps, it is strange to mention them to you at all--."
"Tempted you, Chandos!" exclaimed Rose Tracy. "Oh! I hope he did not succeed."
"Oh, no!" answered her lover; "but yet I was in a degree tempted. I was going to London, with my thoughts full of Rose Tracy, with my heart full of passionate attachment. I felt that under the will of my father, which had been proved, my means were far too small, without some great exertion on my own part, to justify me in pretending to her hand; and at the very moment when I was thinking of how I could mend my broken fortunes--by what effort, by what scheme, however bold, I could acquire a position which would give me even hope, this man crossed me with visioned promises of speedy wealth. But a moment's reflection on the means, a moment's examination of the man himself, dispelled the illusion. Now, however, dear Rose, it behoves me to put the same questions to myself which I then put. I am not richer, but poorer; all I have on earth is but a pittance, barely enough to maintain myself in the rank of a gentleman. What will your father, what will your uncle say, if I presume to tell them of my love, and ask for it their countenance and approbation?"
Rose leaned her head upon her hand, and her eyes filled with tears; but she answered at length, "You must tell them, at all events, Chandos. You cannot tell, you cannot imagine the pain--the agony of mind which the concealment I have already practised has brought upon me--innocent and justifiable as I thought it. Oh! Chandos, for my sake you must abandon all further disguise."
"For your sake, dear Rose, I would do anything," replied Chandos Winslow; "but of course you do not wish me to enter upon the subject to-night. To-morrow I must go into the city to sell out a part of my small portion, in order to pay the expenses of the late trial. I must also see my friend, Sir ----, who so nobly and ably defended me. He seems to entertain a belief--on which, however, I would not found the slightest hope--that a subsequent will of my father's may either be recovered, or the intention of it proved, or something of the kind--I really do not exactly know what; and that I may be thereby enabled to stop the sale of Winslow Abbey."
Rose started; but ere she could explain the effect which such a step, if it were practicable, might have upon the fortunes of her father, a carriage drew up to the house, and there was a footman's knock at the door. Emily immediately joined them, and it was evident that she had been weeping. Chandos knew not his strange position: but could he have seen into the hearts of those two fair girls, what would he have beheld?--That the one rejoiced at his acquittal of a crime she knew he had not committed, yet saw therein the prospect of misery to herself by the probable consequence of his brother's return to England; that the other, while she could not but hope that he might establish his rights, whatever they were, feared that her own father's utter ruin would be thereby consummated.