"I think you must be in his full confidence," observed Mary, looking at William.
"Pretty well so," he answered, with a passing smile.
"Then, if he has any secret grief, will you try and soothe it to him?"
"With all my best endeavours," earnestly spoke William. But there was not the least apparent necessity for his taking Mary Ashley's hand between his own, and pressing it there while he said it, any more than there was necessity for that vivid blush of hers, as she turned into the drawing-room.
But you must be anxious to hear of Anna Lynn. Poor Anna! who had fallen so terribly into the black books of the town, without really very much deserving it. It was a most unlucky contretemps, having been locked out; it was a still more unfortunate sequel, having to confess to it at the trial. She was not a pattern of goodness, it must be confessed: had not yet attained to that perfect model, which expects, as of a right, a niche in the saintly calendar. She was reprehensibly vain; she delighted in plaguing Patience; and she took to running out into the field, when it had been far better that she had remained at home. That running out entailed deceit and some stories: but it entailed nothing worse, and Helstonleigh need not have been so very severe in its judgment.
Never had there been a more forcible illustration of the old saying, "Give a dog a bad name, and hang him," than in this instance. When William Halliburton had told Anna that Herbert Dare was not a good man, and did not bear a good name, he had told her the strict truth. For that very reason a secret intimacy with him was undesirable, however innocent it might be, however innocent it was, in itself: and for that very reason did Helstonleigh look at it through clouded spectacles. Had she been locked out all night, instead of half a one, with some one in better odour, Helstonleigh had not set up its scornful crest. It is quite impossible to tell you what Herbert Dare had done, to have such a burden on his back as people seemed inclined to lay there. Perhaps they did not know themselves. Some accused him of one thing, some of another; ill reports never lose by carrying: the two cats on the tiles, you know, were magnified into a hundred. No one is as black as he is painted—there's a saying to that effect—neither, I dare say, was Herbert Dare. At any rate—and that is what we have to do with—he was not so in this particular instance. He was as vexed at the locking out as any one else could have been; and he did the best (save one thing) that he could for Anna, under the circumstances, and got her in again. The only proper thing to have done, was to knock up Hester. He had wished to do it, but had yielded to Anna's entreaties, that were born of fear.
Not a soul seemed to cast so much as a good word or a charitable thought to him in the matter. Did he deserve none? However thoughtless or reprehensible his conduct was, in drawing Anna into those field excursions, when the explosion came, he met it as a gentleman. Many a one, more renowned for the cardinal graces than was Herbert Dare, might have spoken out at once, and cleared himself at the expense of making known Anna's unlucky escapade. Not so he. A doubt may have been upon him that were it betrayed Helstonleigh might cast a taint on her fair name: and he strove to save it. He suffered the brand of a murderer to be attached to him—he languished for many weeks in prison as a criminal—all to save it. He all but went to the scaffold to save it. He might have called Anna and Hester Dell forward at the inquest, at the preliminary examination before the magistrates, and thus have cleared himself; but he would not do so. Whilst there was a chance of his innocence being brought to light in any other manner, he would not call on Anna. He allowed the odium to settle upon his own head. He went to prison, hoping that he should be cleared in some other way. There was a generous, chivalric feeling in this, which Helstonleigh could not understand when emanating from Herbert Dare, and they declined to give him credit for it. They preferred to look at the affair altogether in a different light, and to lavish hard names upon it. Every soul was alike: there was no exception: Samuel Lynn, and all else in Helstonleigh. They caught the epidemic, I say, one from another.