"No, it shan't, my lady," cried the colonel. "I will not have him encouraged—I mean, felony compounded."
"It shall," persisted Lady Sarah, "it shall, indeed. The bracelet was mine, and I have a right to do as I please. Believe me, Gerard, I will put up with the loss without a murmur; only confess, and let the worry be done with."
Gerard Hope looked at her: little trace of shame was there in his countenance. "Lady Sarah," he asked in a deeply earnest tone, "can you indeed deem me capable of taking your bracelet?"
"The bracelet was there, sir; and it went; and you can't deny it," cried the colonel.
"The bracelet was there, sure enough," assented Gerard. "I held it in my hand for two or three minutes, and was talking to Alice about it. I told her I wished it was mine—and I said what I should do with it if it was."
"Oh, Mr. Hope, pray say no more," involuntarily interrupted Alice.
"What do you want to screen him for?" impetuously broke forth the colonel, turning upon Alice. "Let him say what he was going to say."
"I do not know why I should not say it," Gerard Hope answered, in his spirit of bravado, which he disdained to check. "I said I should pledge it."
"You'll send off to every pawnbroker's in the metropolis, before the night's over, Mr. Officer," cried the choking colonel, breathless with rage. "This beats everything."
"But I did not take it any the more for having said that," put in Gerard, in a graver tone. "The remark might have been made by any one, from a duke downwards, if reduced to his last shifts, as I am. I said if it were mine: I did not say I would steal it. Nor did I."