But he deemed it wise to offer no violent opposition to Annie’s determination to be true to the man she loved. He trusted to time to weaken her love, and show her the folly of allying herself to poverty and disgrace. Meanwhile, as he really liked Harley, and fully believed in his innocence, he meant to do all in his power to promote a certain plan which Hilton had confided to him, whereby it was hoped to divert the weight of punishment on to the shoulders that deserved it.
The interview had proved trying to Annie as well as to Harley, and Mr. Cory was very thankful when he arrived at his own house with his daughter, who certainly looked as if she had borne as much as she could.
“Margaret,” he said to his sister, who had been his housekeeper ever since his wife died, eight years before the opening of our story, “I believe the child is dead beat, and I don’t feel too clever myself. Have you anything in the way of a pick-me-up ready?”
“You shall have some hot milk, with a touch of brandy in it, in a few minutes. That will do you both good, and serve to put you off until dinner is ready, which will be another half hour yet. How did the child bear it?”
“Very bravely. Vowed eternal fidelity, and all that sort of thing. But Riddell is too much of a man to take her at her word, and swears to be nobody’s husband until he is proved innocent. And quite right, too. In fact, I hope Annie will get over her infatuation in any case, for I have no fancy for being pointed at as the father-in-law of a man who has been in gaol. You see, although we never for a moment believe that the poor lad had anything to do with the robbery, and are sure that he is the victim of a vile plot, it will be difficult to get the world to think as we do, and, to tell the truth, it’s a deucedly nasty business all round.”
While Mr. Cory had been speaking, Annie had gone up to her own room, and Miss Cory had rung her bell in order to give some directions to a servant before she followed her niece upstairs.
“Williamson,” she said, “bring two glasses of hot milk here as quickly as possible.”
She delivered herself of this order very quietly. But no sooner was the servant’s back turned than she emptied the vials of her wrath on to her brother’s devoted head.
“John Cory,” she said, drawing her really majestic figure up to its full height, and speaking with a solemn deliberation which she only affected on serious occasions. “I’m ashamed of you! I never expected to see the day when my father’s son would deliberately contemplate the desertion and permanent abandonment of a man whose sole sin is his betrayal by some villain who has cunningly contrived to divert suspicion from himself to an innocent man. John Cory, if I could believe that you would do this vile thing, I would leave your roof for ever.”