“I am sure Edward did not do it,” said Audry impulsively.
“Nonsense, wench,” said her father, “what do you know about it?”
“Oh, well, it has nothing to do with me, but it’s hard on the old man if he did not do it,” Audry replied. “Come along, Aline; I’m tired of this tapestry; we’ve done enough. I want you to read to me. May we go, mother?”
“Yes, yes, run away, both of you”; and, lest Audry’s remark should have had any effect, she added, to her husband;—“It will be an excellent plan in many ways. Edward is getting past his work in any case. I shall be very glad to have some one else.”
“Certainly, Eleanor, it shall be as you wish.”
Audry had run on. Aline had risen and stood irresolutely looking at the Master of Holwick. “But, Cousin Richard, you will wait a bit, won’t you?” she said coaxingly.
“Why, child?”
“Because it might not be Edward, and, probable as it seems, you cannot be certain.” She rose and put her arm round him and in her most bewitching way added,—“You will think it over, won’t you? I know I am only a little girl, but what would you think, Cousin Richard, if afterwards it turned out that you were wrong?”
“Aline,” shouted Mistress Mowbray, “I will not have you interfering. Edward shall leave at once. We cannot have a thief in the house.”
“It isn’t just, Mistress Mowbray. You do not know that he is a thief; you have no proof.”