“Tell me,” he cried; “what shall I say? Am I to speak out?”
“Yes, quick! You torture me.”
“Torture you, whom I would die to save from pain!”
She trembled and flushed, and turned pale by turns.
“I must tell you,” he said; “there is no time to spare. I have—try and bear it, my child, like the true, brave heart you are. Your brother—”
“Yes; quick! what do you mean?” Leslie stood looking at her for a few moments, his mind dragged two ways, and shrinking from giving his news as he gazed into her dilated eyes.
“Why do you not speak?” she said passionately. “Do you not see the pain you give me?”
“I must speak,” he groaned. “Where is your brother? There is a horrible rumour in the town. Mr Crampton—”
“Crampton!”
“Accuses your brother of having robbed and struck down Mr Van Heldre.”