"Yes, sir; he wished partiklar to see Miss Ada--which he did, sir, and her ma too: very nice gentleman he seems, and terrible cut up about his poor uncle and his cousin. A shocking thing, sir, for you to have to witness against Mr. Atherton."
Against Mr. Atherton! Then it had reached here--this news, these tidings--that I was to help to condemn the man I loved best on earth! What was known in the servants'-hall had no doubt been discussed in the drawing-room, and Ada must now fully be aware of what I had found no courage to tell her yesterday. How had she received the intelligence? what was she thinking of it--of me? Reflecting thus, I followed Kings into the library, and found Mrs. Leslie alone. Now that lady and I never got on as amicably as we might have done; joint guardians seldom do, especially when they are of opposite genders; and this I say with no sort of reflection upon the fairer sex, simply mentioning it as a fact which, during a long legal course of experience, has come before me. I considered Mrs. Leslie frivolous, weak, and extravagant, very unlike her child, very far from fit to be instrusted with the sole guidance of a mind such as Ada's. But I kept my own counsel [{459}] on the subject, and tried by action rather than words to counteract and shield Ada from evils arising from her mother's foolish conduct. She thought me very uncompromising, very particular and rigid in my notions, often perhaps very crusty and disagreeable, nor spared she any pains to conceal her thought. That I did not mind; for Ada trusted me implicitly in all things, and it was all I cared for. This morning there was a stiffness and less of cordiality than ever in Mrs. Leslie's manner of receiving me.
"How is Ada?" I asked.
"She passed a very restless night, poor dear, very restless; and is fit for nothing this morning. Indeed, I am almost in the same state myself, I have been so terribly upset by this affair, and my nerves are very delicate. Most trying too! I have had to put off our réunion musicale for next Thursday, and the Denison's dinner-party for to-morrow. I can't think how Hugh came to do it--for of course he must have done it, though Ada won't hear a word against him."
"He did not do it, Mrs. Leslie! Ada is right, as she always is."
"Ah! well, so Lister Wilmot tried to make me believe; but then he says everything is against poor Hugh, and that even you feel obliged to give evidence against him. I must say, John Kavanagh, that I think it very strange of you to have volunteered to give evidence. Wilmot was explaining it all to us, and said you couldn't help yourself; for the first words you had said to the policeman when he came to you criminated your friend."
A glimmer of light was beginning to dawn in my mind; but its ray was very faint and dim as yet; and after all it might only prove a will-o'-the-wisp. Still I would not lose it if possible.
"Wilmot told you that, did he? Does Ada know?"
"Yes; she was here when he came. He told us everything that had passed all that had been said by his uncle the last evening he saw him alive. He mentioned a great deal which had been kept back--purposely I suppose, and for some motive we don't understand now, but which will come out by and by, no doubt," said Mrs. Leslie with a burst of spite in her voice.
"Would you have the goodness to send word to Ada that I am here?" I said very stiffly.