“But you must not interfere!” snapped the clerk—who kept the books of the Salutation in Ambleside and not of the Low Wood Inn.
“Haven’t you sense to see the girl is fainting?” the landlady replied wrathfully.
“Oh, well——”
“I am better now,” Henrietta said bravely. And she drew a deep breath. A little colour—induced perhaps by Hornyold’s unsparing gaze—was coming back to her cheeks. “Would you—can I have a glass of water?” she murmured.
Mrs. Gilson was bustling to the door to give the order when it opened, and Mr. Bishop, who had gone to it a moment before, took in a glass of wine, and, secretly pleased that he had anticipated the need, handed it to her. Mrs. Gilson took it with a grunt of distrust, and made the girl swallow it; while the magistrate waited and watched, and thought that he had never seen a young woman who was so handsome, pale or red, fainting or fierce. And so fresh! so admirably, astonishingly fresh for the companion of such a man. A good many thoughts of various kinds flitted through his mind as he watched her, marking now the luxuriance of her fair hair, now the white chin, small but firm, and now the faint, faint freckles that, like clots in cream, only added to the delicacy of her complexion. He waited without impatience until the girl had drunk the wine, and when he spoke it was in a tone approaching the paternal.
“Now, my dear,” he said, “you are going to be a good girl and sensible, I am sure. We don’t want to send you to prison to herd with people with whom, to judge from your appearance, you have not been wont to mix. And therefore we give you this opportunity—there’s no need we should, you know—of telling us who you are, and whence you come, and what you know; that if it appears that you have fallen into this man’s company in ignorance, and not knowing what manner of man he was, we may prevent this charge appearing, and instead of committing you to Appleby, place you here or elsewhere under bond to appear. Which, in a case so serious as this, is not a course we could adopt were you not so very young, and,” with a humorous look at the group by the door, “so very good-looking! So now be a good girl and don’t be afraid, but tell me at once who you are, and where you joined this man.”
“If I do not,” Henrietta said, looking at him with clear eyes, “must I go to prison?”
“Appleby gaol,” said the clerk, glancing over his glasses.
“Then you must send me there,” she replied, a little faintly. “For I cannot tell you.”
“Don’t be a fool!” growled Mrs. Gilson in her ear.