Part 19 (1/2)

”Netty, you sha'n't speak of d.i.c.k like that!”

”Why shouldn't I? Did he think of me? Really, you are too absurd! I don't see why you should excite yourself about it. If you think that he cared for you only, you are merely one more foolish victim.”

”Netty, how can you talk of your brother so! He is accused of a horrible crime. Why don't you stand up for him? Why don't you do something to clear him? What is your father doing--and your mother?”

”Surely, they can be left to manage their affairs as they think best.”

”And I, who loved him, must do nothing, I suppose,” cried Dora, hysterically. ”I loved him, I tell you, and he loved me. We were engaged.”

”Engaged! What nonsense! Really, Dora!”

”No one knew, Netty,” sobbed Dora, aching for a little feminine sympathy, even from Netty. ”Here is his ring, upon this ribbon round my neck.”

”Surely, you don't think that is interesting to me--and at such a time.”

”Well, if it isn't,” cried Dora, flas.h.i.+ng out through her tears, ”perhaps your brother's honor is. I must see your mother, and urge her to refute the awful slanders spread about by Vivian Ormsby.”

”Oh, so your other admirer is responsible for spreading the story of d.i.c.k's misdeeds. I think he might have kept silent. You must know that it is only because Ormsby made himself ridiculous about you, and because d.i.c.k hated Ormsby, that he flirted with you, and so caused bad blood between them. I think that you might leave d.i.c.k alone, now that he is dead.”

”Dead! Dead! He can't be,” cried Dora desperately. ”I must see your mother,” she insisted. ”I shall go up to her room. This is no ordinary time, and my business is urgent.”

Netty shrugged her shoulders, and walked out of the room, apparently to inform her mother of the visit. After a long delay, Mrs. Swinton entered, looking white and haggard.

”What is it you want of me?” she asked, with a feeble a.s.sumption of her usual languid tone.

”Oh, Mrs. Swinton, it isn't true--tell me it isn't true! I can't believe it of him.”

”You are referring to d.i.c.k's trouble? Our sorrow is embittered by the knowledge that our poor boy went away--”

Words failed her. She could not lie to this girl, whose eyes seemed to be searching her very soul. What did she suspect?

”My father told me of the checks,” said Dora. ”They were made out to you.

Yet, they say he forged them. How could he? I don't understand these things; and father's explanation didn't enlighten me at all. I loved d.i.c.k--you know I did.”

”I suspected it, Dora, and had things gone well with us, I should have been as pleased as anybody, if the affection between you ripened--”

”Ripened!” cried Dora, with fine contempt: ”He loved me, and I loved him.

We were engaged. No one was to know till he came back, but now--well, what does it matter who knows? But those who slander him and take away his good name must answer to me. Vivian Ormsby was always his enemy. But you--you must have known what he was doing. He couldn't take all that money and go away in debt, and talk as he did of having got money from his grandfather by extortion. He told me that you'd been able to arrange things for him.”

”He told you that!” cried Mrs. Swinton, startled into revealing her alarm.

”Yes, he told me that his grandfather had grown impossible, and that you were the only one who could get money out of him. He said you'd got lots of money, and that things were better for everybody at home--those were his words. Yet, they say he altered checks. What do they mean? How could he?”

”My dear, it is too complicated a matter for a girl like you to understand. You must know that to discuss such a matter with me in this time of sorrow is little less than cruel.”

”Cruel? Isn't it cruel to me, too? Isn't his honor as dear to me as to his mother? I tell you, I won't rest until he is set right before the world. Where is Mr. Swinton? He is a man, and can make a public denial on behalf of his son. Surely, he's not going to sit quiet, and let Mr.

Ormsby--”