“And so I am,” I maintained.
“Exactly. Indeed, as far as I can ascertain, it seems that he is a most devoted friend. It is for that very reason that I have asked you to come here and listen to what I have to say.”
“I am all attention,” she responded blankly, with that inertness born of despair. “My enemies have combined to crush me—that I know.”
“Well, first let me tell you, Lady Lolita, that although I have shown myself antagonistic in the past, my convictions have now become changed, and I regret all that I may have done to cause you pain and injury. If you can really I forgive, will hold out my hand in friendship,” and he stretched forth his hand to her as pledge of his sincerity.
At first she hesitated, unable to believe that the man whom she had regarded as her bitterest enemy should have become so completely, and so suddenly her friend. Like myself, she could not at first bring herself to put perfect faith in him. Yet, in a few moments, seeing his evident earnestness, she took his hand, and allowed him to wring hers in genuine friendship.
“Very well,” he said in a gratified tone. “That is the first step. The second is to admit to you that while I am ready to render you assistance instead of hounding you down to destruction, as I had intended, I have also a motive—one that must remain my own secret. Mr Woodhouse, here, no doubt regards my return, my actions, and my arrival as guest in this house as suspicious. I admit that all the circumstances are exceedingly remarkable, and require an explanation—which perhaps you will give him later. But what is so immediately important is the course of action which we shall pursue, now that I am united to assist you.”
“But do you really mean to act on my behalf, Mr Keene?” asked my love eagerly, as though a new future were opened out to her by the man’s suggestion.
“I have given my hand as pledge,” was his reply. “There is an allegation against you—a fact of which I presume Mr Woodhouse is aware. And your bitterest enemy—one who, by a word, could free you—is a woman.”
“Willoughby—I mean Mr Woodhouse—has told me. It is Marigold.”
“Yes. And she refuses to speak. Our efforts must be made towards compelling her,” he said.