Mr. Fisher felt his hand grasped by the speaker, who subsequently congratulated himself that he had put in an effectual plea for Norman. Indeed: he told me afterwards of his efforts on my brother's behalf, and assured me that he had been enabled to render him a signal service without in the least compromising his own dignity or that of the bench.
[CHAPTER VI.]
MR. FISHER attended Overlord Church on the following morning, and had no difficulty in recognising Norman and myself. The likeness between us betrayed the relationship, and he guessed that the third occupant of the pew must be Stephen. In his face, too, Mr. Fisher saw a reflection of an old friend's. He knew afterwards that Sir Vernon Hastings, Stephen's eldest brother, and he were old friends and had been schoolfellows.
Norman's face had an anxious expression that morning which neither Lucy nor I could account for.
Stephen was in the secret, for he had informed my brother as the two men were strolling in the park together that a warrant for his arrest was certain to be issued. They had agreed to say nothing to Lucy or myself until the secret could be kept no longer.
"No use to give them needless anxiety. If the worst comes they will know soon enough, without meeting trouble on the way," said Norman and Stephen assented.
But who can keep a secret in a village where events are few and eyes and ears always open? Norman and Stephen might keep their counsel; but, in spite of their reticence, a rumour got abroad that the young squire was going to be tried for his life for breaking open the mail-bag.
As I was preparing for dinner on Sunday afternoon, I was struck by the combined dolefulness and mystery observable in my attendant's manner. An inquiry on my part brought a burst of tears from Ellen.
"Are you ill, or have you been quarrelling With Tom?" I asked; for the girl, a pretty, modest creature, was engaged to a farmer's son in the neighbourhood.
"Oh dear no, Miss Berty. We never quarrel, and I am quite well."