Both sat quite still;quite silent for some time.Through the silence a sharp,clear voice was heard speaking through the folding-doors.
"Take the kedgeree down,and tell the cook to keep it hot for the judge.It is so tiresome people coming on business here,as if the judge had not his proper hours for being at chambers."He got up hastily,and went into the dining-room;but he had audibly some difficulty in curbing his wife's irritation.
When he came back,Ellinor said:
"I am afraid I ought not to have come here now.""Oh!it's all nonsense!"said he,in a tone of annoyance."You've done quite right."He seated himself where he had been before;and again half covered his face with his hand.
"And Dixon knew of this.I believe I must put the fact plainly--to you--your father was the guilty person?he murdered Dunster?""Yes.If you call it murder.It was done by a blow,in the heat of passion.No one can ever tell how Dunster always irritated papa,"said Ellinor,in a stupid,heavy way;and then she sighed.
"How do you know this?"There was a kind of tender reluctance in the judge's voice,as he put all these questions.Ellinor had made up her mind beforehand that something like them must be asked,and must also be answered;but she spoke like a sleep-walker.
"I came into papa's room just after he had struck Mr.Dunster the blow.He was lying insensible,as we thought--dead,as he really was.""What was Dixon's part in it?He must have known a good deal about it.And the horse-lancet that was found with his name upon it?""Papa went to wake Dixon,and he brought his fleam--I suppose to try and bleed him.I have said enough,have I not?I seem so confused.
But I will answer any question to make it appear that Dixon is innocent."The judge had been noting all down.He sat still now without replying to her.Then he wrote rapidly,referring to his previous paper,from time to time.In five minutes or so he read the facts which Ellinor had stated,as he now arranged them,in a legal and connected form.He just asked her one or two trivial questions as he did so.Then he read it over to her,and asked her to sign it.She took up the pen,and held it,hesitating.
"This will never be made public?"said she.
"No;I shall take care that no one but the Home Secretary sees it.""Thank you.I could not help it,now it has come to this.""There are not many men like Dixon,"said the judge,almost to himself,as he sealed the paper in an envelope.
"No,"said Ellinor;"I never knew any one so faithful."And just at the same moment the reflection on a less faithful person that these words might seem to imply struck both of them,and each instinctively glanced at the other.
"Ellinor!"said the judge,after a moment's pause,"we are friends,Ihope?""Yes;friends,"said she,quietly and sadly.
He felt a little chagrined at her answer.Why,he could hardly tell.
To cover any sign of his feeling he went on talking.
"Where are you living now?"
"At East Chester."
"But you come sometimes to town,don't you?Let us know always--whenever you come;and Lady Corbet shall call on you.Indeed,I wish you'd let me bring her to see you to-day.""Thank you.I am going straight back to Hellingford;at least,as soon as you can get me the pardon for Dixon."He half smiled at her ignorance.
"The pardon must be sent to the sheriff,who holds the warrant for his execution.But,of course,you may have every assurance that it shall be sent as soon as possible.It is just the same as if he had it now.""Thank you very much,"said Ellinor rising.
"Pray don't go without breakfast.If you would rather not see Lady Corbet just now,it shall be sent in to you in this room,unless you have already breakfasted.""No,thank you;I would rather not.You are very kind,and I am very glad to have seen you once again.There is just one thing more,"said she,colouring a little and hesitating."This note to you was found under papa's pillow after his death;some of it refers to past things;but I should be glad if you could think as kindly as you can of poor papa--and so--if you will read it--"He took it and read it,not without emotion.Then he laid it down on his table,and said -"Poor man!he must have suffered a great deal for that night's work.
And you,Ellinor,you have suffered,too."Yes,she had suffered;and he who spoke had been one of the instruments of her suffering,although he seemed forgetful of it.
She shook her head a little for reply.Then she looked up at him--they were both standing at the time--and said:
"I think I shall be happier now.I always knew it must be found out.
Once more,good-by,and thank you.I may take this letter,Isuppose?"said she,casting envious loving eyes at her father's note,lying unregarded on the table.
"Oh!certainly,certainly,"said he;and then he took her hand;he held it,while he looked into her face.He had thought it changed when he had first seen her,but it was now almost the same to him as of yore.The sweet shy eyes,the indicated dimple in the cheek,and something of fever had brought a faint pink flush into her usually colourless cheeks.Married judge though he was,he was not sure if she had not more charms for him still in her sorrow and her shabbiness than the handsome stately wife in the next room,whose looks had not been of the pleasantest when he left her a few minutes before.He sighed a little regretfully as Ellinor went away.He had obtained the position he had struggled for,and sacrificed for;but now he could not help wishing that the slaughtered creature laid on the shrine of his ambition were alive again.
The kedgeree was brought up again,smoking hot,but it remained untasted by him;and though he appeared to be reading the Times,he did not see a word of the distinct type.His wife,meanwhile,continued her complaints of the untimely visitor,whose name he did not give to her in its corrected form,as he was not anxious that she should have it in her power to identify the call of this morning with a possible future acquaintance.
