“Pooh, pooh!” interposed Mr. Galloway, who was standing by. “If I am content to accept Arthur’s innocence, surely the college school may be.”
Mr. Channing turned to the proctor. “Do you now believe him innocent?”
“I say I am content to accept his innocence,” was the reply of Mr. Galloway; and Arthur, who was within hearing, could only do as he had had to do so many times before—school his spirit to patience. “Content to accept,” and open exculpation, were essentially different things.
“Let me speak with you a minute, Galloway,” said Mr. Channing, taking the proctor’s arm and leading him across the hall to the drawing-room. “Tom,” he added, looking back, “you shall tell me of these grievances another time.”
The drawing-room door closed upon them, and Mr. Channing spoke with eagerness. “Is it possible that you still suspect Arthur to have been guilty?”
“Channing, I am fairly puzzled,” returned Mr. Galloway, “His own manner, relating to it, has not changed, and that manner is not compatible with innocence, You made the same remark yourself, at the time.”
“But you have had the money returned to you, I understand.”
“I know I have.”
“Well, that surely is a proof that the thief could not have been Arthur.”
“Pardon me,” replied Mr. Galloway, “It may be a proof as much against him as for him: it may have come from himself.”