That same day, Tuesday, witnessed the return of Samuel Lynn and William Halliburton. They arrived in the evening, and of course the first news they were greeted with was the prevailing topic. Few things caused the ever-composed Quaker to betray surprise; but William was half-stunned with the news. Anthony Dare dead—murdered—buried that very day; and Herbert in prison, awaiting his trial for the offence! To William the whole affair seemed more incredible than real.
"Sir," he said to his master, when, the following morning, they were alone together in the counting-house at the manufactory, "do you believe Herbert Dare can be guilty?"
Mr. Ashley had been gazing at William, lost in thought. The change we often see, or fancy we see, in a near friend, after a few weeks' absence, was apparent in William. He had improved in looks; and yet those looks, with their true nobility, both of form and intellect, had been scarcely capable of improvement. Nevertheless, it was there, and Mr. Ashley had been struck with it.
"I cannot say," he replied, aroused by the question. "Facts appear conclusively against him; but it seems incredible that he should so have lost himself. To be suspected and committed on such a charge is grief enough, without the reality of guilt."
"So it is," acquiesced William.
"We feel the disgrace very keenly—as all must who are connected with the Dares in ever so remote a degree. I feel it, William; feel it as a blow; Mrs. Ashley is the cousin of Anthony Dare."
"They are relatives of ours also," said William in a low tone. "My father was first cousin to Mrs. Dare."
Mr. Ashley looked at him with surprise. "Your father first cousin to Mrs. Dare!" he repeated. "What are you saying?"
"Her first cousin, sir. You have heard of old Mr. Cooper, of Birmingham?"
"From whom the Dares inherited their money. Well?"