“In the mean time there are other people concerned,” said Louis, taking Charlie’s arm, and turning him somewhat hurriedly away from the edge of the wood, which at this epoch of his fortunes, the scene of so many despairing fancies, was rather more than he chose to experiment upon. “You are not poetical, Charlie. I do not suppose it has come to your turn yet—but we do not want poetry to-night; there are other people concerned. So far as I can see, your case—I scarcely can call it mine, who have had no hand in it—is clear as daylight—indisputable. Is it so?—you know better than me.”
“Indisputable,” said Charlie, authoritatively.
“Then it should never come to a trial—for the honour of the house—for pity,” said the heir. “A bad man taken in the toils is a very miserable thing to look at, Charlie; let us spare him if we can. I should like you to get some one who is to be trusted—say Mr Foggo, with some well-known man along with him—to wait upon Lord Winterbourne. Let them go into the case fully, and show him everything: say that I am quite willing that the world should think he had done it in ignorance—and persuade him—that is, if he is convinced, and they have perfect confidence in the case. The story need not be publicly known. Is it practicable?—tell me at once.”
“It’s practicable if he’ll do it,” said Charlie; “but he’ll not do it, that’s all.”
“How do you know he’ll not do it?—it is to save himself,” said Louis.
“If he had not known it all along, he’d have given in,” said Charlie, “and taken your offer, of course; but he has known it all along—it’s been his ghost for years. He has his plans all prepared and ready, you may be perfectly sure. It is generous of you to suggest such a thing, but he would suppose it a sign of weakness. Never mind that—it’s not of the least importance what he supposes; if you desire it, we can try.”
“I do desire it,” said Louis; “and then, Charlie, there is the Rector.”
Charlie shook his head regretfully. “I am sorry for him myself,” said the young lawyer; “but what can you do?”
“He has been extremely kind to me,” said Louis, with a slight trembling in his voice—“kinder than any one in the world, except your own family. There is his house—I see what to do; let us go at once and explain everything to him to-night.”
“To-night! that’s premature—showing your hand,” said Charlie, startled in his professional caution: “never mind, you can stand it; he’s a fine fellow, though he is the other line. If you like it, I don’t object; but what shall you say?”