"He had such great ambitions--as to what he'd do--with this money," she
said, lightly brushing her wet eyes, and trying to smile. "It wasn't the
mere fortune! Oh, I knew that!"
Tatham was silent. But he gently touched her hand with his own.
"You'll stand by him?--if he needs it?" she asked piteously.
He assured her. Then, suddenly, raising herself on tiptoe, she
kissed him on the cheek. The blood flew into his face, and bending
forward--timidly--he laid his lips on her soft brow. There was a
pledge in it--and a farewell. She drew herself away.
"The first--and the last," she said, smiling, and sighing. "Now we're
comrades. I await your news. Tell me if I can help--throw light? I know
the people--the neighbourhood, well. And when you see Mr. Faversham,
greet him from me. Tell him his friends here feel with him--and for him.
And as to what you say--ah, no!--I'm not going to believe--I can't
believe--that any one can have such--such vile thoughts! The truth
will soon come out!"
She held herself steadily.
"We must find the-murderer," Tatham repeated, and took up his cap.
* * * * *
Lydia was left alone in the little breakfast-room. Susy could be heard
moving about overhead; she would be down directly. Meanwhile the winter
sunshine came broadly in; the singing of the tea-kettle, the crackle of
the fire made domestic music. But Lydia's soul was far away. It stood
beside Faversham, exulting.
"Free!"--she said to herself, passionately--"free!" and then with the
hyperbole of love--"I talked and moralized--he _did it_!"
A splendid pride in him possessed her; so that for long she
scarcely realized the tragedy of the murder, or the horror of the
slanderous suspicion now starting through the dales.
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