Part 35 (1/2)

Yet perhaps none would have been so comforting as his genuine sympathy, although it was in a voice of extreme distress that Leonard exclaimed, 'Dr. May, Dr. May, pray don't! you ought not to grieve for me!'

'I'm a fool,' said Dr. May, after some s.p.a.ce, fighting hard with himself. 'Nonsense! we shall see you out of this! We have only to keep up a good heart, and we shall see it explained.'

'I don't know; I can't understand,' said Leonard, pa.s.sing his hand over his weary forehead. 'Why could they not believe when I told them just how it was?'

At that moment the policeman opened the door, saying, 'Here, sir;' and Henry hurried in, pale and breathless, not looking in his brother's face, as he spoke fast and low.

'Ned Anderson says there's nothing at all to be made of this defence of yours; it is of no use to try it. The only thing is to own that he found fault with you, and in one of your rages--you know--'

'You too, Henry!' said Leonard, in dejected reproach.

'Why--why, it is impossible it could have been otherwise--open window, absconding, and all. We all know you never meant it; but your story won't stand; and the only chance, Anderson says, is to go in for manslaughter. If you could only tell anything that would give him a clue to pick up evidence while the people are on the spot.'

Leonard's face was convulsed for a moment while his brother was speaking; but he recovered calmness of voice, as he mournfully answered, 'I have no right to wonder at your suspicion of me.'

Henry for the first time really looked at him, and instinctively faltered, 'I beg your pardon.'

'Indeed,' said Leonard, with the same subdued manner, 'I cannot believe that any provocation could make me strike a person like that old man; and here there was none at all. Except that he was vexed at first at my being late, he had never been so near kindness.'

'Then is this extraordinary story the truth?'

'Why should I not tell the truth?' was the answer, too mournful for indignation.

Henry again cast down his eyes, Leonard moved about making preparations, Dr. May leant against the wall--all too much oppressed for speech; till, as Leonard stooped, poor little Mab, thrusting her black head into his hand, drew from him the words, 'My doggie, what is to become of you?'

A sort of hoa.r.s.e explosion of 'Ave' from Henry was simultaneous with the Doctor's 'I tried to get her home with me in the morning, but she waited your orders.'

'Miss May would not have her now. After all, prussic acid would be the truest mercy' said Leonard, holding the little creature up to his face, and laying his cheek against her silken coat with almost pa.s.sionate affection.

'Not while there are those who trust your word, Leonard; as Ethel said this morning.'

He raised the face which he had hidden against the dog, and looked earnestly at the Doctor as if hardly venturing to understand him; then a ray of real gladness and comfort darted into his eyes, which so enlivened Dr. May, that he was able to say cheerfully, 'We will take good care of her till you come for her.'

'Then, Henry,' said Leonard, 'it is not unkindness, nor that I remember things, but indeed I think it will be better for you all, since Dr. May is so--so--' The word kind was so inadequate, that it stuck in his throat. 'Take this to Ave,' putting his mother's likeness in his hand, 'and tell her I will write,'

'Poor Ave!'

Leonard imploringly shook his head; the mention of his sister shook him more than he could bear; and he asked the time.

'Nearly six.'

'Only six! What an endless day! There, I am ready. There is no use in delaying. I suppose I must show what I am taking with me.'

'Wait,' said his brother. 'Cannot you say anything to put us on the track of the man in the yard?'

'I did not see him plain.'

'You've no notion?' said Henry, with a movement of annoyance.

'No. I only looked for a moment; for I was much more anxious to get off quietly, than to make any one out. If I had only waited ten minutes, it might have been the saving of his life, but my commission was so like fun, and so important too, that I thought of nothing else.