Part 33 (1/2)
”But what can you do?”
”The poor soul is in prison.”
”That is where I came to offer my help. The a.s.sizes are not over.
The same judge who committed him has been delayed there for three days by a _nisi prius_ suit--an endless West Cornwall will case.”
”You did not suppose, surely, that this was happening with any consent of mine?”
”No,” Sir George answered slowly, ”I did not. But do you know, Lady Killiow, that, without any consent of ours, you and I have nearly been in litigation over this same wretched ferry?” He smiled at her surprise.
”Oh, yes, I could help the Radicals to make out a very good case against us!”
”I learned to trust my old steward. It seems that I have carried over my trust too carelessly to this son of his, and with the less excuse because I dislike the man. The fact is, I am getting old.”
”May I say humbly that you defend yourself before a far worse sinner in these matters? And may I say, too, that your care for Damelioc and its tenantry has always been quoted in my hearing as exemplary?”
”I am not defending myself. I have been to blame, though,” she added with a twinkle, ”I do not propose to confess this to my steward. I have been bitterly to blame, and my first business at Bodmin will be to ask this old man's pardon.”
”And after?”
”He must be released, and at once. Can this be done by withdrawing the suit? or must there be delays?”
”He must purge his offence, I fear, unless you can persuade the judge to reconsider it. If I can help you in this, I would beg for the privilege.”
”Thank you, my friend. I was on the point of asking what you offer.
You had best leave your horse here and take a seat in my carriage.”
”But,” said Sir George, as she moved to the door, ”you have not yet told me how you learned the news--who was beforehand with me.”
”You shall see.” She crossed the corridor, and softly opening a door, invited him to look within. There, in the lofty panelled breakfast-room, at a table reflected as a small white island in a sea of polished floor, sat Myra and Clem replete and laughing, unembarra.s.sed by the splendid footman who waited on them, and reckless that the huge bunch of grapes at which they pulled was of December's growing.
Sir George laughed too as he looked. ”But, good heavens!” said he, remembering the footprints on the drive, ”they must have left home before daylight!”
”They started in the dead of night, so far as I can gather. Eh? What is it?” she asked, turning upon another footman, who had come briskly down the corridor and halted behind her, obviously with a message.
”Mr. Rosewarne, my lady. He has just come in by way of the stables.
He has seen the carriage waiting, but asks me to say that he will not detain your ladys.h.i.+p a minute.”
”He has come for the children, no doubt. Very well; I will see him in the morning-room.” As the man held open the door for her she motioned to Sir George to precede her. ”I shall defer discussing Mr. Rosewarne's conduct with him. For the moment we have to deal with its results, and you may wish to ask him some questions.”
Mr. Sam never committed himself to horseback, but employed a light gig for his journeys to and from Damelioc. The cold drive having reddened his ears and lent a touch of blue to his nose, his appearance this morning was more than usually unprepossessing.
”I will not detain your ladys.h.i.+p,” he began, repeating the message he had sent by the footman. ”Ah, Sir George Dinham? Your servant, Sir George!
My first and chief business was to recover my runaways, whom your ladys.h.i.+p has so kindly looked after.”
”You know why they came?” asked Lady Killiow.
”To tell the truth, I have not yet had an opportunity to question them.