"I did not know that there were sufficient materials for accomplishing so much," said Gualtier, cautiously.
"No; the materials were not abundant. There was the cipher, with which no one would have supposed that any thing could be done. Then there were those other letters which lay with it in the desk, which corroborated what the cipher seemed to say. Out of this has suddenly arisen ruin and anguish."
"There was also the key," said Gualtier, in a tone of delicate insinuation.
"True," said Hilda; "had the key not been inclosed with the papers, she could not have understood the cipher, or made any thing out of the letters."
"The Earl must have believed it all."
"He never doubted for an instant. By the merest chance, I happened to be in a place where I saw it all," said Hilda, with a peculiar emphasis. "I thought that he would reject it at first, and that the first impulse would be to scout such a charge. But mark this"--and her voice grew solemn--"there must have been some knowledge in his mind of things unknown to us, or else he could never have been so utterly and completely overwhelmed. It was a blow which literally crushed him--in mind and body."
There was a long silence.
"And you think he can not survive this?" asked Gualtier.
"No," said Hilda, in a very strange, slow voice, "I do not think--that--he--can--recover. He is old and feeble. The shock was great. His mind wanders, also. He is sinking slowly, but surely."
She paused, and looked earnestly at Gualtier, who returned her look with one of equal earnestness.