"You are my friend--my best and dearest friend," Midwinter went on. "I can't bear to let you justify yourself to me as if I was your judge, or as if I doubted you." He looked up again at Allan frankly and kindly as he said those words. "Besides," he resumed, "I think, if I look into my memory, I can anticipate your explanation. We had a moment's talk, before I went away, about some very delicate questions which you proposed putting to Major Milroy. I remember I warned you; I remember I had my misgivings.
Should I be guessing right if I guessed that those questions have been in some way the means of leading you into a false position?
If it is true that you have been concerned in Miss Gwilt's leaving her situation, is it also true--is it only doing you justice to believe--that any mischief for which you are responsible has been mischief innocently done?""Yes," said Allan, speaking, for the first time, a little constrainedly on his side. "It is only doing me justice to say that." He stopped and began drawing lines absently with his finger on the blurred surface of the window-pane. "You're not like other people, Midwinter," he resumed, suddenly, with an effort; "and I should have liked you to have heard the particulars all the same.""I will hear them if you desire it," returned Midwinter. "But Iam satisfied, without another word, that you have not willingly been the means of depriving Miss Gwilt of her situation. If that is understood between you and me, I think we need say no more.
Besides, I have another question to ask, of much greater importance--a question that has been forced on me by what I saw with my own eyes, and heard with my own ears, last night."He stopped, recoiling in spite of himself. "Shall we go upstairs first?" he asked, abruptly, leading the way to the door, and trying to gain time.
It was useless. Once again, the room which they were both free to leave, the room which one of them had twice tried to leave already, held them as if they were prisoners.
Without answering, without even appearing to have heard Midwinter's proposal to go upstairs, Allan followed him mechanically as far as the opposite side of the window. There he stopped. "Midwinter!" he burst out, in a sudden panic of astonishment and alarm, "there seems to be something strange between us! You're not like yourself. What is it?"With his hand on the lock of the door, Midwinter turned, and looked back into the room. The moment had come. His haunting fear of doing his friend an injustice had shown itself in a restraint of word, look, and action which had been marked enough to force its way to Allan's notice. The one course left now, in the dearest interests of the friendship that united them, was to speak at once, and to speak boldly.
"There's something strange between us," reiterated Allan. "For God's sake, what is it?"Midwinter took his hand from the door, and came down again to the window, fronting Allan. He occupied the place, of necessity, which Allan had just left. It was the side of the window on which the Statuette stood. The little figure, placed on its projecting bracket, was, close behind him on his right hand. No signs of change appeared in the stormy sky. The rain still swept slanting across the garden, and pattered heavily against the glass.
"Give me your hand, Allan."
Allan gave it, and Midwinter held it firmly while he spoke.
"There is something strange between us," he said. "There is something to be set right which touches you nearly; and it has not been set right yet. You asked me just now where I met with Miss Gwilt. I met with h er on my way back here, upon the high-road on the further side of the town. She entreated me to protect her from a man who was following and frightening her. Isaw the scoundrel with my own eyes, and I should have laid hands on him, if Miss Gwilt herself had not stopped me. She gave a very strange reason for stopping me. She said I didn't know who his employer was."Allan's ruddy color suddenly deepened; he looked aside quickly through the window at the pouring rain. At the same moment their hands fell apart, and there was a pause of silence on either side. Midwinter was the first to speak again.
"Later in the evening," he went on, "Miss Gwilt explained herself. She told me two things. She declared that the man whom Ihad seen following her was a hired spy. I was surprised, but Icould not dispute it. She told me next, Allan--what I believe with my whole heart and soul to be a falsehood which has been imposed on her as the truth--she told me that the spy was in your employment!"Allan turned instantly from the window, and looked Midwinter full in the face again. "I must explain myself this time," he said, resolutely.
The ashy paleness peculiar to him in moments of strong emotion began to show itself on Midwinter's cheeks.
"More explanations!" he said, and drew back a step, with his eyes fixed in a sudden terror of inquiry on Allan's face.
"You don't know what I know, Midwinter. You don't know that what I have done has been done with a good reason. And what is more, Ihave not trusted to myself--I have had good advice.""Did you hear what I said just now?" asked Midwinter, incredulously. "You can't--surely, you can't have been attending to me?""I haven't missed a word," rejoined Allan. "I tell you again, you don't know what I know of Miss Gwilt. She has threatened Miss Milroy. Miss Milroy is in danger while her governess stops in this neighborhood."Midwinter dismissed the major's daughter from the conversation with a contemptuous gesture of his hand.
