"I have seen him. I know that he is a straightforward, honourable man."
Ella sighed.. She wished the doubt could be solved.
Mr. Conroy wished the same, though perhaps in a less ardent way. It did not trouble him as it did her; he was more patient, more reconciled to let time work out its own ends. He held a secret conviction that Aaron was at the bottom of the plot, if there had been a plot; but Conroy kept that impression to himself.
Harsh, crabbed and unsympathetic as was Aaron Stone, both by nature and training, the shock of his grandson's sudden death, following so soon after that of the Squire, had not failed to leave its traces behind. In a few short months Aaron seemed to have grown a dozen years older. His hair was thinner and whiter, he had become more feeble in his gait, and he claimed the assistance of a stick in walking more frequently than before. He maundered in an undertone to himself as he walked about the Hall with his keys--his chief duty now was to shut up the old house at night and to open it in the morning; he did little else; and he would often speak out aloud as in answer to some question when nobody had asked him one. He would have liked to follow his mistress about much as a faithful old mastiff might have done, gazing from the doors when she was in the grounds, moving restlessly about her chair at dinner. To Conroy he had taken umbrage, and would mutter to himself that a strange man had no business at Heron Dyke; the best of 'em were but spies.
"What do he do up in that north wing so much?" soliloquised the old man in the homely speech he was pleased to indulge in when off duty. "I see him, evening after evening, a-creeping softly up and a-creeping down again. What do he do it for? What's he looking after? Do the young mistress know of it, I wonder? Who can answer for't that he warn't in that theft o' the jewels? Yah! Spies!"
Of all the inmates of the Hall, the one least tolerant of his crotchets and his failings was Mrs. Carlyon. On occasion she spoke of them to Ella.
"It is partly your fault, child; you give in to him so."
"I don't think I do, aunt. In what way do I?"
"In many ways. Look at that senseless fancy he has taken up of having no men-servants in the house but himself! And you fall in with it."
"We have enough maids for the work, Aunt Gertrude."