Walter had seen that, and if he had had perfect faith in Sarah, he would have laughed at his sister's alarms. But it was plain his faith and trust were being undermined.
"I don't think you, Miss Burgess, would have played that sort of game with any other young man had you been engaged."
Mary Burgess smiled. "It was never put to me to be so tried," she said, softly.
"Dear Miss Burgess," said Walter, quickly, and self-reproachfully, as he remembered why, probably, she had never been so tried, "I forgot—pray forgive me. My trials are light compared with yours."
"And yet they are heavy to you. Will you not lay them where, long ago, I laid mine?"
"Yes, yes, I know. But what shall I do now?" Walter asked, impatiently.
"Why not go home for a week, and see how the land lies, and set things to rights, if they can be?" demanded Ralph.
"You know I can't leave now, with all the work we have on hand; and if I could, I am afraid it would only set things more to wrongs than they are. I'll tell you what I'll do," he added, in a more sprightly tone. "I'll write to Mr. Rubric, and ask him to tell me the truth right out. He must know all about it; and he is a good man, and a friend of both families—ours and uncle Mark's. And he won't go talking about my having written to him."
"The best thing you can do," said Ralph, glad to shift the responsibility of advice on to other shoulders.
"But you must not give up your cousin without good cause," added Mary Burgess.