"Is it his fault?" exclaimed Lydia. "Mr. Melrose must be mad!"
"I wonder if that excuses Mr. Faversham?"
"It's horrible for him!" said Lydia in a low, smothered voice. "He
_wants_ to put things right?"
It was on the tip of Victoria's tongue to say, "Does he too write to you
every day?" but she refrained.
"If he really wants to put things right, why has he done nothing all
these seven weeks?" she asked severely. "I saw Colonel Barton this
morning. He and Mr. Andover are in despair. They felt such confidence in
Mr. Faversham. The state of the Mainstairs village is too terrible!
Everybody is crying out. The Carlisle papers this week are full of it.
But there are scores of other things almost as bad. Mr. Faversham rushes
about--here, there, and everywhere--but with no result, they tell us, as
far as any of the real grievances are concerned. Mr. Melrose seems to be
infatuated about him personally; will give him everything he wants; and
pays no attention whatever to his advice. And you know the latest
report?"
"No." Lydia's face was bent over the grass, as she tried to aid a
bumble-bee which was lying on its back.
"It is generally believed that Mr. Melrose has made him his heir."
Lydia lifted a face of amazement, at first touched strangely with relief.
"Then--surely--he will be able to do what he wants!"
"On the contrary. His silence has been bought--that's what people say.
Mr. Melrose has bribed him to do his work, and defend his iniquities.
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