Something in the tone, in the solemnity of the blue eyes, in the carriage of the gray head, touched Marsham to the quick. He laid a hand on his old friend's shoulder--affectionately--in mute thanks.
"Diana mentioned her father's solicitors--"
"I know"--interrupted Sir James--"Riley & Bonner--excellent fellows--both of them still living. They probably have all the records. And I shouldn't wonder if they have a letter--from Sparling. He must have made provision--for the occasion that has now arisen."
"A letter?--for Diana?"
Sir James nodded. "His behavior to her was a piece of moral cowardice, I suppose. I saw a good deal of him during the trial, of course, though it is years now since I lost all trace of him. He was a sensitive, shy fellow, wrapped up in his archæology, and very ignorant of the world--when it all happened. It tore him up by the roots. His life withered in a day."
Marsham flushed.
"He had no right to bring her up in this complete ignorance! He could not have done anything more cruel!--more fatal! No one knows what the effect may be upon her."
And with a sudden rush of passion through the blood, he seemed to hold her once more in his arms, he felt the warmth of her cheek on his; all her fresh and fragrant youth was present to him, the love in her voice, and in her proud eyes. He turned away, threw himself into a chair, and buried his face in his hands.
Sir James looked down upon him. Instead of sympathy, there was a positive lightening in the elder man's face--a gleam of satisfaction.
"Cheer up, old fellow!" he said, in a low voice. "You'll bring her through. You stand by her, and you'll reap your reward. By Gad, there are many men who would envy you the chance!"