“But he was before the magistrates yesterday, I hear, and is going up again to-day.”
“Yes, that is so.”
“And Roland could not open his lips to tell me of this when I came home last night!” grumbled my lady. “We were late, and he was the only one up; Gerald and Tod were in bed. I shall ask him why he did not. But, Miss Channing, this must be a dreadful blow for you all?”
“It would be far worse, Lady Augusta, if we believed him guilty,” she replied from her aching heart.
“Oh, dear! I hope he is not guilty!” continued my lady, displaying as little delicacy of feeling as she could well do. “It would be quite a dangerous thing, you know, for my Roland to be in the same office.”
“Be at ease, Lady Augusta,” returned Constance, with a tinge of irony she could not wholly suppress. “Your son will incur no harm from the companionship of Arthur.”
“What does Hamish say?—handsome Hamish! He does not deserve that such a blow should come to him.”
Constance felt her colour deepen. She bent her face over the exercise she was correcting.
“Is he likely to be cleared of the charge?” perseveringly resumed Lady Augusta.
“Not by actual proof, I fear,” answered Constance, pressing her hand upon her brow as she remembered that he could only be proved innocent by another’s being proved guilty. “The note seems to have been lost in so very mysterious a manner, that positive proof of his innocence will be difficult.”