nothing to me," he said, still holding his head high. "They cannot prove a falsehood, however they may wish it; but to think that of all these men with whom I have eaten and drunk, who have professed to welcome me for my father's sake – to think that not one of them would step in to stand by a fellow, or give him the least support – "
"When you reflect that even I knew nothing about it," said Mr Monypenny – "not a word – till old Rolls came – "
"Did you hear none of the talk?" said John. "I did not hear it, indeed, but I have felt it in the air. I knew there was something. Everybody looked at me suspiciously; the very tone of their voice was changed – my own servants – "
"Your servants are very anxious about you, Mr Erskine, if I may judge from old Rolls. I have seldom seen a man so overcome; and if you will reflect that your other friends throughout the county can have heard nothing, any more than myself – "
"Then you did not hear the talk?" said John, somewhat eagerly. Mr Monypenny's countenance fell.
"I paid no attention to it. There's some story for ever going on in the country-side. Wise men just shut their ears," he said.
"Wise men are one thing and friends another," said John. "Had I no one who could have told me, at least, on how small a thread my reputation hung? I might have gone away," he said, with some vehemence, "at the height of it. If business, or even pleasure, had called me, no doubt I should, without a notion of any consequences. When I think of that I shiver. Supposing I had gone away?"
"In that case," said Mr Monypenny, clearing his throat; but he never got any further. This alarm affected him greatly. He began to believe that his client might be innocent altogether – an idea which, notwithstanding all the disclaimers which he and Rolls had exchanged, had not crossed his mind before; but when he heard John's story, his faith was shaken. He listened to it with the deepest interest, waiting for the moment when the confession would be made. But when it ended, without any end, so to speak, and John finally described Torrance as riding up towards the house, while he himself went down, Mr Monypenny's countenance fell. He was disappointed. The tale was such as he expected, with this important difference – it wanted a conclusion. The listener gave a gasp of interest when the crisis arrived, but his interest flagged at once when it was over, and nothing had happened. "And then?" he said, breathlessly. And then? – but there was no then. John gazed at him wondering, not perceiving the failure of the story. "That is all," he said. Mr Monypenny grew almost angry as he sat gazing at him across the table.
"I have just been telling Rolls," he said, "that the best policy in such a case is just downright honest truth. To get into a panic and keep back anything is the greatest mistake. There is no need for any panic. You will be in the hands of those that take a great interest in you, Mr John – begging your pardon for using that name."
"You do not seem satisfied with what I have told you," John said.
"Oh, me! it's little consequence what I think; there's plenty to be thought upon before me. I would make no bones about it. In most things the real truth is the best, but most especially when you're under an accusation. I'm for no half measures, if you will let me say so."
"I will let you say whatever you please – so long as you understand what I am saying. I have told you everything. Do I look like a man in a panic?" said John.
"Panic has many meanings. I make no doubt you are a brave man, and ready to face fire and sword if there was any need. But this is different. If you please, we'll not fail to understand each other for want of plain speaking. Mr Erskine, I make no doubt that's all as true as gospel; but there's more to come. That's just a part of the story, not the whole."
"I don't mean to be offended by anything you say," said John, cheerfully. "I feel that it means kindness. There is nothing more to come. It is not a part, but the whole. It is the truth, and everything I know."
Mr Monypenny did not look up; he was drumming his foot softly against the table, and hanging his head with a despondent air as he listened. He did not stop the one nor raise the other, but went on working his under lip, which projected slightly. There is no such tacit evidence of dissatisfaction or unbelief. Some little sign invariably breaks the stillness of attention when the teller of a tale comes to its end, if his story has been believed. There is, if no words, some stir, however slight – movement of one kind or another, if only the change of an attitude. But Mr Monypenny did not pay this usual tribute when John's voice stopped. It was a stronger protest than if he had said, "I don't believe you," in ordinary words.
"I understand," said John, after a pause of a full minute, which seemed to him an hour. He laughed with something between despair and defiance. "Your mode of communication is very unmistakable, Mr Monypenny. It is Scotch, I suppose. One has always heard of Scotch caution and cannyness." If he had not been very bitter and sore at heart he would not have snatched at this aimless weapon of offence.
"Mr Erskine," said the agent, "a sneer is always easy. Gibes break no bones, but neither have they any healing in them. You may say what you like to me, but an argument like that will do you terrible little good with them that will have to judge at the end. I am giving no opinion myself. On my own account I will speak frankly. I would rather not have heard this story – unless I was to hear – "
"What?" cried John, in the heat of personal offence.
"More," said Mr Monypenny, regretfully – "more; just another dozen words would have been enough; but if there is no more to say – "
"I am not a man to make protestations of truth. There is no more to say, Mr Monypenny."
"Well-a-well," said the agent gloomily, shaking his head; "we must take just what is given – we must try to make the best of it. And you think there's nothing can be proved against you?" he said, with a slight emphasis. It required all John's self-command to keep his temper. He had to remind himself forcibly of the true and steady and long-tried kindness with which this doubter had stood by him, and cared for his interests all his life – a wise steward, a just guardian. These thoughts kept unseemly expressions from his lips, but he was not the less sore at heart. Even after the first blow of the criminal examination and his detention in prison, it had all seemed to him so simple. What could be necessary but to tell his story with sufficient distinctness (in which he thought he had failed before the sheriff)? Surely truth and falsehood were distinguishable at a glance, especially by those who are accustomed to discriminate between them. But the blank of unbelief and disappointment with which Mr Monypenny heard his story chilled him to the heart. If he did not believe him, who would? He was angry, but anger is but a temporary sentiment when the mind is fairly at bay and finds itself hemmed in by difficulties and danger. He began to realise his position, the place in which he was, the circumstances surrounding him, as he had not yet done. The sheriff himself had been very civil, and deeply concerned to be the means of inflicting such an affront upon a county family; and he had added encouragingly that, on his return to Dunearn, in less than a week, when all the witnesses were got together, there was little doubt that a different light might be thrown on the affair; but Mr Monypenny's question was not so consolatory. "You think there's nothing can be proved against you?" John had been gazing at his agent across the table while all these painful reflections went through his mind.
"I must be careful what I say. I am not speaking as a lawyer," he said, with an uncomfortable smile. "What I meant was, that nothing could be proved which was untrue."
The agent shook his head. "When it's circumstantial evidence, you can never build upon that," he said. "No man saw it, you may say; but if all the facts point that way, it goes far with a jury. There are some other things you will perhaps tell me. Had you any quarrel ever with poor Tinto? Was there ill blood between you? Can any man give evidence, for example, 'I heard the panel say that he would have it out with Pat Torrance'? or – "
"For
