"Don't you think the time has nearly come when she ought to be told?" said John, with a significant look at his sister.
"It will be a great shock to her."
"I don't doubt that, still----"
But at this moment Hermia entered the room, and for the time nothing more was said.
Frank had his reasons for not calling at the Cottage on Sunday. A few days previously his mother had said to him, in her enigmatical way:
"Whatever may be the result of Mr. Brancker's trial, I think it advisable that you should keep away from his house just at present. I have my reasons for asking this."
That was all she had said, but Frank knew that she had paid one of her periodical visits to old Mr. Avison a few days before, and he could only conclude that the interdiction--for it was little less--which had been laid upon him, had had its origin in the visit in question. It was an easy matter for him to carry out his mother's wishes.
At a few minutes past nine o'clock on Monday morning, Edward Hazeldine's dog-cart stopped at the gate of Nairn Cottage. John, who had seen it from the window, walked down through the little front garden to the gate. The hands of the two men met in a cordial grip.
"I was not well enough to see you on Saturday," said Edward, "but I had a messenger to bring me the news of the verdict the moment it was known. I felt sure of your innocence all along, and the jury by their verdict have merely given emphatic utterance to that which all right-thinking men must have been convinced of from the first. I congratulate you with all my heart!"
"I have a great deal to thank you for Mr. Edward, and I assure you that both I and my sister are fully sensible of all that we owe to yourself and your brother in this terrible business. I can conscientiously say that it was your outspoken belief in my innocence, which all through did more to uphold and strengthen me than anything else. I can never, never forget what I owe to you."