“Of course, if you put it that way, child, I shall have to do what you ask, as far as is possible.” He sat for a few moments without speaking, and then added,—“I have examined into the matter and find that Thomas did not actually steal anything himself, nor did he get anything out of it; but he seems to be a poor cowardly sort of fellow whom Andrew used as a tool. I might let him stay on in the house if you greatly wish it, but I really cannot, even if we pardon Andrew, have him any longer at the Hall. I think that the man is too violent to be trusted. He does not really belong to this neighbourhood at all and it might be possible to send him back to Carlisle whence he came. That is about all that I can suggest. There is a cousin of mine near there who might keep an eye on him, and if he gives sign of trouble this could still be kept hanging over him. But do you really wish it? Do you understand, child, what you are doing?”
“Yes, I really would like it,” she said.
“Then I shall go and speak to the men,” said Mowbray, and departed.
After half an hour he came back again. “Would you mind seeing them?” he said. “I think it would be good for them. I have told them what you asked and at first they hardly seemed to believe it. Andrew scarcely said anything, though Thomas was profuse in his gratitude.”
“I will see them if you wish it, but it is not easy.”
He looked at the sad little figure and his heart smote him and yet somehow he felt that it was the right thing to do, so he went down again and brought up the men.
Aline was propped up on pillows; she looked very weak, but the wonderful pearly, almost translucent, complexion that distinguished her had for the moment recovered its usual brilliancy. Andrew was led in with his hands tied behind his back; he looked sullen and sheepish, whereas Aline had seldom looked more queenly in spite of her condition. Thomas was not bound and looked singularly at ease.
“You have both of you behaved most disgracefully,” Master Mowbray said in a judicial tone; “you have meanly taken advantage of the house that had provided you with your livelihood and one of you has committed a crime so vile that it is not for me to find words in which to express my abhorrence. If I were doing what my real judgment tells me I should do, you, Thomas, for your part, would spend a long time in York Gaol, and as for you,” he continued, turning to Andrew, “the world would soon be rid of you altogether. However, Mistress Aline has asked me to give you both another chance, as you know; but I wanted you first to see the result of your sin and to give you an opportunity of thanking her for what you do not deserve; so I have brought you here. Aline, child, tell them what you want them to do.”
It was a very difficult task for the small invalid, and Master Mowbray did not at all realise what he was demanding from the sensitive highly strung little maiden. But she nerved herself for the task and tried to forget herself and everything but the men before her.
“Oh, please, Andrew,” she said, “I only want to tell you that I am feeling much better. I shall be all right in a day or two, and Master Mowbray says that you are to go to Carlisle, where you used to live. My father once took me to Carlisle when I was a very little girl and it is a fine town, much bigger than Appleby. You should easily find work there and you will not forget, will you, to send Master Mowbray something every month to replace the things that have gone? Master Mowbray’s cousin will let us know how you are getting on, and please, sire,” she continued, turning to Richard Mowbray himself and then looking at Andrew’s bonds but not mentioning them, “I want to shake hands with Andrew and hope that he will be happy.”