"But did you suspect him? You must forgive me, my dear, for asking you these questions; I intended to ask Dr. Brabazon, not you, but I find he is out."
"And I am very glad he is, Sir Simon, for I have never told papa. There were circumstances that seemed to throw a suspicion on Mr. Henry at the time, but they were so doubtful that it was best not to speak of them; and I desired Trace—who was the one to bring them under my notice—to let them die away."
"Oh, Trace brought them to you, did he? But how do you mean they were doubtful?"
"In so far as that Mr. Henry, if applied to, might have been able to explain them all away. It would have been very cruel to bring accusation against any one on grounds so slight."
"Just so. Well, my dear lady, I'd stake Pond Place against Mr. Raymond Trace's prejudices, that the young man is as upright as he is—perhaps more so. We poor sinners shan't be able to stand in Master Trace's presence with our hats on soon; he must be going on for heaven head-foremost, he must, with all this self-righteousness."
Emma Brabazon laughed, and followed Sir Simon out, talking. Upon which Miss Rose emerged from her hiding-place to escape, her German book in her hand, and the fairy tale stuffed up her frock.
"What did they mean?" debated the young lady, who had but imperfectly understood. "If I could find out, I'd tell him. He is always kind to me with my German, though I am so tiresome. I hate that Trace: he never gives me anything; and he stole one of my letters out of Dick's drawer the other day, and made game of it."
People called Sir Simon Orville an odd man. Mr. Raymond Trace in particular could not understand him; there were moments when that young gentleman deemed his respected uncle fit only for a lunatic asylum. He had surely thought him so this morning, had he been behind him. For Sir Simon, quitting Dr. Brabazon's, went on direct to Mrs. Paradyne's. It was not the first visit he had paid her in her present residence. Deprecating, as he did, the past frauds and crimes of which her husband was guilty, he yet in his benevolent heart thought the poor widow as much deserving of commiseration as were his own relatives; and he chose to show her that he thought it. His errand was to invite her and George to dinner on the next day, Christmas; that day of peace and goodwill to men. Mrs. Paradyne at first declined; but Sir Simon was so heartily pressing, there was no withstanding it, and she at length yielded. He went home, chuckling at the surprise it would be to his nephews, for they knew nothing of it, and he did not intend to tell them.
A surprise it proved. They went for a very long walk after morning service on the following day, and had not been home many minutes when the guests arrived. Trace stared with all his eyes: he thought he must be dreaming. Was that Mrs. Paradyne, coming into the room on the arm of Sir Simon, or were his eyes deceiving him? He might be wrong: he had not seen her indoors for many years. She wore a handsome silk gown, and a cap of real lace; rather reserved and discontented in her manner, but essentially a lady. George followed her in, and there could be doubt no longer. George was free, merry, open, cordial, as it was in George Paradyne's nature to be, and he went up to Trace with his hand outstretched, wishing him heartily a merry Christmas. Trace turned salmon-coloured: he would not see the hand; did not respond to it. Bertie Loftus, as if to cover the marked rudeness, put his hand cordially into George Paradyne's; and Trace would have annihilated Bertie, could looks have done it.
"Is he mad?" groaned Trace in a side-whisper, alluding to his uncle.