The rector was the only one really glad to find that the news of Dick’s death was not true; but the joy of finding him alive was nullified by the terror of coming trouble. Mary was mentally stunned by the shock of Dick’s return. She had grown accustomed to the thought of him as dead, and, of late, had been almost glad, since it saved the whole family from social ruin. Now, what would happen? She could not think, every faculty seemed benumbed. She had arisen and dressed in a perfectly mechanical manner, and, even 238 now that she was sitting at the breakfast-table, her eyes had the strange and set expression which one sees in the eyes of the sleep-walker. Her voice, too, had unfamiliar notes as she read aloud the headings of the news columns, making a wretched pretense of keeping up appearances before the servants.
The domestics had been sworn to secrecy. This was not difficult, as all were devoted to Dick. He had always been a favorite. His kindness and consideration for those who served him was always in marked contrast to Netty’s haughty and exacting nature. There was not a creature in the house who would not have run personal risk to serve him.
He was still in a state of prostration, weaker far than he knew, and on the brink of a serious collapse. The need for secrecy made it dangerous to call in medical aid, and he tried to allay his father’s anxiety by assuring him that rest was all he needed. He would soon be well enough to start on his way again.
During breakfast, Netty had made no comment on her brother’s return. Her eyes were red with weeping, but only because she saw the possibility of her brother in the dock, and Harry Bent’s mother opposing her marriage. The rector and his wife scarcely exchanged a word; it was obvious that there was a growing antagonism between them. The woman already suspected her husband of leaning toward her son, with designs upon her liberty and reputation. 239 The rector was hoping that his wife would come to her senses, now that her boy had returned, and see the wisdom of confession, without forcing upon him the painful task of telling the dreadful truth. The situation had been argued out between them until words ceased to have meaning, and by common consent all action was suspended until this morning, when, it was hoped, Dick would be rested, and able to join the council.
If anything, Dick was worse; listless, nerveless, unable to rise, and spending his time in dozes that were perilously near unconsciousness.
The meal ended, Netty escaped. Her mother hurried up to Dick, and the rector to his study, where he awaited his wife.
Presently, she came down, dressed for walking.
“Where are you going, Mary?” he asked nervously.
“I’m going up to see father. It’s the only thing to do. He cannot kill his own grandson. If Dick dies, his death will be at father’s door.”
“Mary, you are agitated and hysterical. You are not fit to see anyone. Your father can do nothing. The matter is in the hands of the bank. We must either remain passive, and await the issue of events, or see Ormsby and put the case to him, appealing to him for a withdrawal of the prosecution.”