It was a happy evening, chequered, though it necessarily must be, with thoughts of Charles. And Mr. Channing, in the midst of his deep grief and perplexity, thanked God for His great mercy in restoring the suspected to freedom. “My boy!” he exclaimed to Arthur, “how bravely you have borne it all!”
“Not always very bravely,” said Arthur, shaking his head. “There were times when I inwardly rebelled.”
“It could not have been done without one thing,” resumed Mr. Channing: “firm trust in God.”
Arthur’s cheek kindled. That had ever been present with him. “When things would wear their darkest aspect, I used to say to myself, ‘Patience and hope; and trust in God!’ But I never anticipated this bright ending,” he added. “I never thought that I and Hamish should both be cleared.”
“I cannot conceive how you could have suspected Hamish!” Mr. Channing repeated, after a pause. Of all the wonders, that fact seemed to have taken most hold of his mind.
Arthur made a slight answer, but did not pursue the topic. There were circumstances connected with it, regarding Hamish, not yet explained. He could not speak of them to Mr. Channing.
Neither were they to be explained, as it seemed to Arthur. At any rate, not at present. When they retired to rest, Hamish came into his room; as he had done that former night, months ago, when suspicion had just been thrown upon Arthur. They went up together, and Hamish, instead of turning into his own room, followed Arthur to his. He set down the candle on the table, and turned to Arthur with his frank smile.
“How is it that we can have been playing at these cross-purposes, Arthur? Why did you not tell me at the time that you were innocent?”
“I think I did tell you so, Hamish: if my memory serves me rightly.”
“Well, I am not sure; it may have been so; but in a very undemonstrative sort of manner, if you did at all. That sort of manner from you, Arthur, would only create perplexity.”