"One can't account for everything," said Lady Harriet, a little
impatiently, for reason was going hard against her. "But I choose to
have faith in Molly Gibson. I'm sure she's not done anything very
wrong. I've a great mind to go and call on her--Mrs. Gibson is
confined to her room with this horrid influenza--and take her with
me on a round of calls through this little gossiping town,--on Mrs.
Goodenough, or Badenough, who seems to have been propagating all
these stories. But I've not time to-day. I've to meet papa at three,
and it's three now. Only remember, Miss Phoebe, it's you and I
against the world, in defence of a distressed damsel."
"Don Quixote and Sancho Panza!" said she to herself as she ran
lightly down Miss Browning's old-fashioned staircase.
"Now, I don't think that's pretty of you, Phoebe," said Miss
Browning in some displeasure, as soon as she was alone with her
sister. "First, you convince me against my will, and make me very
unhappy; and I have to do unpleasant things, all because you've made
me believe that certain statements are true; and then you turn round
and cry, and say you don't believe a word of it all, making me out
a regular ogre and backbiter. No! it's of no use. I shan't listen
to you." So she left Miss Phoebe in tears, and locked herself up in
her own room.
Lady Harriet, meanwhile, was riding homewards by her father's side,
apparently listening to all he chose to say, but in reality turning
over the probabilities and possibilities that might account for these
strange interviews between Molly and Mr. Preston. It was a case of
_parler de l'âne et l'on en voit les oreilles_. At a turn in the road
they saw Mr. Preston a little way before them, coming towards them on
his good horse, _point device_, in his riding attire.
The earl, in his thread-bare coat, and on his old brown cob, called
out cheerfully,--
"Aha! here's Preston. Good-day to you. I was just wanting to ask you
about that slip of pasture-land on the Home Farm. John Brickkill
wants to plough it up and crop it. It's not two acres at the best."
While they were talking over this bit of land, Lady Harriet came to
her resolution. As soon as her father had finished, she said,--"Mr.
Preston, perhaps you will allow me to ask you one or two questions to
relieve my mind, for I am in some little perplexity at present."
"Certainly; I shall only be too happy to give you any information in
my power." But the moment after he had made this polite speech, he
recollected Molly's speech--that she would refer her case to Lady
Harriet. But the letters had been returned, and the affair was now
wound up. She had come off conqueror, he the vanquished. Surely she
would never have been so ungenerous as to appeal after that.