“Yes—you—my father,” sobbed Julia; and in broken words she panted out the story of the ride.
Mrs Hallam had been indignant, and a strange shiver of horror had passed through her, as it seemed as she listened that she was going to hear in form of words the dread that had been growing in her mind for a long time past.
It was then at first with a sense of relief that she gathered from her child’s incoherent statement that Crellock had uttered few words of love. When, however, she thoroughly realised what had passed, and the charge that Crellock had made, it came with such a shock in its possibility, that her brain reeled.
“It is not true,” she cried, recovering herself quickly. “Julia, it is as false as the man who made it.”
“I knew—I knew it was, dear mother,” sobbed Julia. “My father shall drive him from the house.”
“Stay here,” said Mrs Hallam sternly. Then, more gently, “My child, you are flushed, and hot. There, there! we have been so happy lately. We must not let a petty accusation like this disturb us.”
“So happy, mother,” cried Julia piteously, “when our friends forsake us; and Mr Bayle is as good as forbidden the house?”
“Hush, my darling?” said Mrs Hallam agitatedly. “There, go to your room.”
She hurried Julia away, for she heard the trampling of the horses’ feet as they were led round to the stables, and then a familiar step upon the stairs.
“I was coming to speak to you,” she said as Hallam opened the door.