“It’s this, sir. Whether it’s going against my duty or not—and there’s nobody here to hear it if it is—whatever verdict they may bring in, I don’t believe for a moment that you had any more to do with that poor girl’s death than I had. You will excuse my saying so, I hope, sir?”
“On the contrary, I am very much obliged to you for your good opinion,” Godfrey replied, holding out his hand which the other took. “I am afraid that it’s going to be a very unpleasant business for me. That can’t be helped, however. Good-night.”
“Good-night, sir,” the man answered.
Then Godfrey joined Sir Vivian and, as had been arranged, they drove off to the Hall together. The moon was rising above the hill as they went through the park, and as Godfrey looked on the peaceful scene around him and thought of the terrible suspicion that was growing in people’s minds concerning himself his heart sank within him. If only little Teresina could speak, how easily she could clear up all the dark charges against him! She was dead, however, brutally murdered, and he, the only man who had ever befriended her, was suspected of having caused her death.
“Keep up a stout heart, my lad,” said Sir Vivian, as they alighted from the carriage and ascended the steps. “Think of the ladies, and don’t make them any more unhappy than you can help.”
The door was opened by the ancient butler who had served his uncle before him, and Godfrey entered his home, but how different a man from the young fellow who had left it that morning!
“The ladies are in the drawing-room, sir,” said the servant, when he had relieved them of their hats and coats.
They accordingly proceeded thither, one of them at least with a sinking heart.
“We have just been wondering when we should see you,” said Kitty.
There was a look of anxiety on Molly’s face as she came forward to meet her lover. She placed her hand in his, and they sat down together.