Ande grew more amazed and confused; amazed because he knew not what the squire was trying to ascertain, confused because he had been there and even in the gardens, but for a purpose he did not wish to divulge. A wave of crimson swept over his countenance, rivalling the sanguine hue of his locks.
"Take notice of his confusion, Master Blunt," and then in a stern voice to the lad, "You may as well out with it, we know all the facts of the affair."
Ande tried to answer, but his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth. His heart seemed to sink lower and lower in his chest.
"Sir, sir,—I—I——"
"You were in the gardens last evening," thundered the squire, his wrath getting the better of him. "You were in the gardens, were you not? Answer on your honour?"
"I was," falteringly.
"And for what purpose?"
"That I cannot tell."
"And why not?"
The youth was silent. He had the appearance of a culprit, and felt wretched and miserable. The squire continued to question and cross-question, but of no avail, and at length, growing nettled and peevish, he said, "I will state the case plainly to you, Master Trembath. You were in the gardens last evening, last Wednesday night and last Monday night. On Monday night you drained the fish-pond and stole the best fish; on Wednesday you ruined the shrubbery beds; last evening you took a stone from the hedge and killed my faithful mastiff, Borlase. What answer do you make to these accusations? Make a clean breast of it and it will be better for you, my lad."