“I take that as more than any apology,” I returned, as sincerely. “But to return to Sarennes. What use did he make of my letter?”
“He attempted such a use that the outcome of your meeting with him is fully justified.”
“It was justified as it was!” I objected. “I do not fight on trifles. Do you mean, he tried to persuade Margaret that it referred to her?”
“He did. And though I was enabled to save her from personal danger, I could do nothing to relieve the distress he had wrought by these means.”
“The hound! It would have been a satisfaction to have known this when I met him.”
“Remember, though, it is entirely owing to the loyalty of his mother and sister that her position here has been possible.”
“That is true; but I see as clearly, that her reception by them was only possible through your answering for her. I owe you everything.”
“You owe me much,” he said, quietly, as if to himself. And at the simple words of self-abnegation my heart ached at the thought of the pain I had involuntarily caused.
“I am sorry for any family that holds so black a sheep as Sarennes,” I said, to break the awkward pause that followed.
“His family need know nothing, beyond that he died on the field of battle, a much more desirable fate than he was likely to meet with in France, had he lived; for, believe me, information has gone forward that will insure the trial and, I trust, the punishment of every peculator who has helped to ruin this miserable colony, no matter which way the present crisis may turn.”