being so much a man of his time it was he who understood that gasp of suffering best. He said, "Lady Edith, if I can help – " quickly, on the impulse of the moment; then, thorough little gentleman as he was, checked himself. "Lady Lindores, though I am a stranger, yet my name is good enough. Tell me what to do and I will do it. Perhaps it is better that Lord Lindores should not commit himself. But I am free, don't you know," he said, with something of the easy little chirrup of more ordinary times. Why was it that, at such a moment, Edith, of all others, in her personal despair, should burst out into that strange little laugh? She grasped her mother's arm with both hands in her excitement. Here was a tragic irony and ridicule penetrating the misery of the crisis like a sharp arrow which pricked the girl to the very heart.
This sympathiser immediately changed the face of affairs. Lord Lindores, indeed, continued to hold himself apart, pushing back his chair once more; but even to Lord Lindores, Millefleurs made a difference. He said no more about enthusiasm or common-sense, but listened, not without an occasional word of direction. They clustered together like a band of shadows against the great window, which was full of the paleness of the night. Beaufort, who was the person most acquainted with all the circumstances, recovered his sense of personal importance as he told his story. But after all, it was not as the narrator of John Erskine's story that he cared to gain importance in the eyes of Carry's family, any more than it was as bail for John Erskine that Lord Millefleurs desired to make himself agreeable to the ladies at Lindores. Both of the strangers, thus caught in the net of difficulties and dangers which surrounded their old comrade, resented it more or less; but what could they do? Edith took no further part in the consultation. She retired behind her mother, whose arm she continued to hold firm and fast in both her hands. When she was moved by the talk going on at her side she grasped that arm tightly, which was her only sign of emotion, but for the rest retired into the darkness where no one could see, and into herself, a still more effectual retirement. Lady Lindores felt that her daughter's two hands clasping her were like a sort of anchor which Edith had thrown out in her shipwreck to grasp at some certainty. She bore the pressure with a half smile and sigh. She too had felt the shipwreck with keen passion, still more serious than that of Edith: but she had no one to anchor to. She felt this, half with a grateful sense of what she herself was still good for; but still more, perhaps, with that other personal sense which comes to most – that with all the relationships of life still round her, mother and wife, she, for all solace and support, was like most of us virtually alone.
CHAPTER XXXV
"Your master is just a young fool. Why, in the name of a' that's reasonable," cried Mr Monypenny, "did he not send for me?"
"Sir," said Rolls, "you're too sensible a man not to know that the last thing a lad is likely to do is what's reasonable, especially when he's in that flurry, and just furious at being blamed."
Mr Monypenny was walking up and down his business room with much haste and excitement. His house was built on the side of a slope, so that the room, which was level with the road on one side, was elevated on the upper floor at the other, and consequently had the advantage of a view bounded, as was general, by "that eternal Tinto," as he was in the habit of calling it. The good man, greatly disturbed by what he heard, walked to his window and stared out as Rolls spoke. And he shook his fist at the distant object of so many troubles. "Him and his big house and his ill ways – they've been the trouble of the country-side those fifteen years and more," cried the excited "man of business"; "and now we're not done with him, even when he's dead."
"Far from done with him," said Rolls, shaking his head. He was seated on the edge of a chair with his hat in his lap and a countenance of dismay. "If I might make so bold as to ask," he said, "what would ye say, sir, would be done if the worst came to the worst? I'm no' saying to Mr Erskine indiveedually," added Rolls – "for it's my belief he's had nothing ado with it – but granting that it's some person and no mere accident – "
"How can I tell – or any man?" said Mr Monypenny. "It depends entirely on the nature of the act. It's all supposition, so far as I can see. To pitch Pat Torrance over the Scaur, him and his big horse, with murderous intent, is more than John Erskine could have done, or any man I know. And there was no quarrel or motive. Culpable homicide – "
"That'll be what the English gentleman called manslaughter."
"Manslaughter is a wide word. It would all depend on the circumstances. A year; maybe six months only – If it were to turn out so – which I do not for a moment believe – " said Mr Monypenny, fixing his eyes upon Rolls with a determination which betrayed internal feebleness of belief.
"Nor me, sir – nor me!" cried Rolls, with the same look. They were like two conspirators regarding each other with the consciousness of the plot, which, even between themselves, each eyeing the other, they were determined to deny.
"But if by any evil chance it were to turn out so – I would advise a plain statement," said Mr Monypenny – "just a plain statement, concealing nothing. That should have been done at the moment: help should have been sought at the moment; there's the error. A misadventure like that might happen to any man. We might any of us be the means of such an accident: but panic is just the worst policy. Panic looks like guilt. If he's been so far left to himself as to take fright – to see that big man on his big horse thunderin' over the Scaur would be enough to make any man lose his head," the agent added, with a sort of apology in his tone.
"If you could think of the young master as in that poseetion," said Rolls.
"Which is just impossible," Mr Monypenny said, and then there was a little pause. "The wisest thing," he went on, "would be, just as I say, a plain statement. Such and such a thing happened. I lost my head. I thought there was nothing to be done. I was foolish enough to shrink from the name of it, or from the coolness it would make between me and my friends. Ay, very likely that might be the cause – the coolness it would make between him and the family at Lindores – "
"You're meaning always if there was onything in it at a'?"
"That is what I'm meaning. I will go and see him at once," Mr Monypenny said, "and that is the advice I will give. A plain story whatever it may be – just the facts; neither extenuate nor set down aught in malice. And as for you, Rolls, that seem to be mixed up in it yourself – "
"Ay, sir; I'm mixed up in it," said Rolls, turning upon him an inquiring yet half-defiant glance.
"It was you that found the body first. It was you that met your master at the gate. You're the most important witness, so far as I can see. Lord bless us, man!" said Mr Monypenny, forgetting precaution, "had you not the judgment, when you saw the lad had been in a tuilzie, to get him out of other folk's sight, and keep it to yourself?"
"There was John Tamson as well as me," said Rolls, very gravely; and then he added, "but ye canna see yet, Mr Monypenny, how it may a' turn."
"I see plenty," said the man of business, impatiently; and then he added, "the best thing you can do is to find out all you can about the ground, and other details. It was always unsafe; and there had been a great deal of rain. Very likely it was worse than ordinary that day. And call to mind any circumstances that might tell on our side. Ye had better come to me and make me acquainted with all your observations. Neglect nothing. The very way the beast was lying, if ye can rightly remember, might be a help. You're not without sense, Rolls. I've always had a high opinion of your sense. Now here's a chance for you to prove it – And come back to me, and we'll judge how the evidence tends. There's no need," he said, standing at the window once more with his back to his pupil, "to bring out any points that might turn – the other way."
"I'm not just such a fool as – some folk think," said Rolls; "and yet," he added, in an undertone, "for a' that, you canna see, Mr Monypenny, how it may all turn – "
"Don't haver, Rolls," said the agent, turning upon him angrily; "or speak out what you
