Louise’s sympathy swung round on the instant to the side of the attacked; and, hardly knowing what she said—
“Mr Leslie came to bear some terrible news, and to offer to help you.”
“To help me!” cried Harry with the eagerness of him who catches at straws. “And you—what did you say?”
“I said the information was false—a miserable invention. And I repeat it. Harry, it is not true?”
He made no reply for a few moments while, sobbing and terrified, Louise clung to him.
“Harry,” she said excitedly, “why do you not speak?”
“Don’t talk to me,” he said hoarsely, “I’m thinking.”
“But, Harry, I laugh at Aunt Marguerite’s follies about descent and our degradation; but it is your duty to make a stand for our father’s sake. Who has dared to accuse you of all this?”
“Don’t talk to me,” he said in an angry whisper, as he ran to the window and listened, crossing the room directly after to try the door.
Louise gazed at him in a horrified way, and her heart sank down, down, as her brother’s acts suggested the possibility of his guilt. Then, like a flash of light, a thought irradiated her darkening soul, and she caught her brother’s arm.