Mr. Hurde gave no very satisfactory reply. He took off his glasses and wiped them. Maria had invited him to a chair, and sat near him, her elbow leaning on the table, and her face slightly bent. Mr. Hurde did not know what Mrs. George Godolphin had or had not heard, or how far it would be expedient for him to speak. She guessed at his dilemma.
“Tell me all, Mr. Hurde,” she said, lifting her face to his with imploring eagerness. “It is well that you should, for nothing can be more cruel than the uncertainty and suspense I am in. I know about Lord Averil’s bonds.”
“Ay?” he replied. But he said no more.
“I will tell you why I ask,” said Maria. “Mr. Snow has been here, and he informs me that coming to the Bank daily and the worry are killing Mr. Godolphin. He says Mr. George ought to be back in his brother’s place. I think if he can come, he ought to do so.”
“I wish he could,” returned Mr. Hurde, more quickly and impressively than he usually spoke. “It is killing Mr. Godolphin—that, and the bankruptcy together. But I don’t know that it would be safe for him, on account of these very bonds of Lord Averil’s.”
“What else is there against him?” breathed Maria.
“There’s nothing else.”
“Nothing else?” she echoed, a shade of hope lighting up her face and her heart.
“Nothing else. That is, nothing that he can be made criminally responsible for,” added the old clerk, with marked emphasis, as if he thought that there was a great deal more, had the law only taken cognizance of it. “If Lord Averil should decline to prosecute, he might return to-morrow. He must be back soon, whether or not, to answer to his bankruptcy; or else——”
“Or else—what?” asked Maria falteringly, for Mr. Hurde had stopped. “Speak out.”