He took her hands; he bent over her as tenderly as any brother could have done; he read all too surely how opposite to the truth had been her former assertion to him—that she did not care for Herbert Dare.
"Anna, child, you must not agitate yourself in this way: there is no just cause for doing so. I assure you I do not know where it is thought Herbert Dare may have been that night; neither, so far as can be learnt, does any one else know. It is the chief point—where he was—that is puzzling the town."
She laid her head down on the gate again, closing her eyes, as in very weariness. William's heart ached for her.
"He may not be guilty, Anna," was all the consolation he could find to offer.
"May not be guilty!" she echoed in a tone of pain. "He is not guilty. William, I tell thee he is not. Dost thee think I would defend him if he could do so wicked a thing?"
He did not dispute the point with her; he did not tell her that her assumption of his innocence was inconsistent with the facts of the case. Presently Anna resumed.
"Why must he remain in gaol till the trial? There was that man who stole the skins from Thomas Ashley—they let him out, when he was taken, until the sessions came on, and then he went up for trial."
"That man was out on bail. But they do not take bail in cases so grave as this."
"I may not stay longer. There's Hester coming to call me in. I rely upon thee to tell me anything fresh that may arise," she said, lifting her beseeching eyes to his.
"One word, Anna, before you go. And yet, I see how worse than useless it is to say it to you now. You must forget Herbert Dare."