Brooke's Daughter Part 53

She folded the girl in her arms and pressed her lips to the soft cheek, a little sob breaking from her as she spoke.

"Only for half an hour, mamma. Just to speak to you for a few minutes about _him_."

"Him! Your father! Oh, Lesley, what does it all mean?"

"Poor mamma! it must have been a great shock to you. Sit down, and I will tell you all that I know."

And gently pressing Lady Alice back into a seat, Lesley took a footstool at her mother's knee and told her the story. Lady Alice listened in silence. With one hand she stroked Lesley's hair; with the other she held Lesley's fingers, and Lesley noticed that it twitched from time to time as if in nervous agitation. Otherwise, however, she was very calm.

"And so," she said, at last, "you came to tell me the story as you know it.... But, my child, you have told me very little that I did not know already. Even in last night's papers the relationship between Oliver Trent and these people in Whitechapel was commented on. And your own name, my darling--that did not escape. Did you think I should misunderstand you?"

"Oh, no, mamma--not misunderstand _me_, but I was afraid lest you might misunderstand some one else."

Lady Alice was silent.

"I was afraid," said Lesley, softly, "lest the years that have gone by should have made you forget his gentleness and n.o.bleness of soul--lest for one moment you should think him capable of a mean or vile action. I came to tell you, dearest mother, how impossible it was for us--who _know_ him--to credit for one moment an accusation of this kind. If all the world said that he was guilty, you and I, mamma, would know that he was not."

"My child, my darling, you must speak for yourself. Do not try to speak for me!"

"Mother, won't you give me a message for him?"

"Are you going to see him, Lesley?"

"I hope so. Mr. Kenyon said he would take me."

There was a short silence, and then Lesley lifted her eyes to her mother's face. She was not encouraged by what she saw there. It was pale, sad, immobile, and, as it seemed to Lesley, very cold.

"Mother, I must go. Won't you send him a message?"

"I have no message, Lesley."

"Not one little word?"

"Not one." And then, as if trying to excuse herself Lady Alice added, hurriedly, "there is nothing that I can say which would please him. He would not care for any message from me."

"He would care to hear that you trusted him!"

"I do not think so," said Lady Alice, with a little shake of her head.

Lesley rose to her feet, silenced for the moment, but not altogether vanquished. She put her arms round her mother's neck.

"But you do trust him, mamma? Tell me that, at any rate."

For almost the first time within Lesley's memory Lady Alice made a gesture of impatience.

"I cannot be catechised; Lesley. Let me alone. You do not understand."

And Lesley was obliged to go away, feeling sorrowfully that she had failed in her mission. Perhaps, however, she had succeeded better than she knew.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

"AT YOUR SIDE."

Caspar Brooke was not as yet debarred the privilege of seeing his friends, and on the morning after his arrest he had a great many visitors, including, of course, Maurice Kenyon and his lawyer. Maurice was busying himself earnestly on his friend's behalf; and, considering the position that Brooke held, the esteem felt for him in high places, and the amount of interest that was being brought to bear on the authorities, there was little doubt but that he would be let out on bail in a day or two, even if the proceedings were not quashed altogether.

Some delay, however, there was sure to be owing to the pertinacity of Mary Trent's a.s.sertion that she saw him struggling with Oliver on the stairs, but in the meantime his detention was allowed to press as lightly upon him as possible.

It was noon before Lesley saw him, and when she sprang to his side and threw her arms around his neck, with a new demonstrativeness of manner, she noticed that his brows lifted a little, and that he smiled with a look of positive pleasure and relief.

"So you have come?" he said, holding her to him as if he did not like to let her go. "I began to wonder if you had deserted me!"

"Oh, father! Why, I have been waiting ever so long for Mr. Grierson to go."

"And before that----?" he asked, in rather a peculiar tone.

"Before that--I went to see mamma." And Lesley looked bravely up into his face.

"That was an infringement of contract, as I suppose you know," said Caspar, smiling persistently. "But it does not matter very much. What did 'mamma' say to you?"

"I--don't--know," murmured Lesley, confused by the question. "Nothing very much."

"Nothing. Ah, I know what that means." He turned away from her, and, sitting down, leaned his elbows upon a table, and played with his beard.

"It was useless, Lesley," he said, quietly, after a few minutes'

silence. "Your mother is the last person whose sympathies will be enlisted on my side."

Lesley tried to speak but suddenly felt her voice fail her; so instead of speaking she knelt down by her father, leaned her head upon his shoulder, and burst into very heartfelt tears.

"Little one," said Caspar, "I'm afraid we have both got ourselves into a mess."

It did not sound comforting, but Lesley stayed her tears to listen.

"I have been talking to Grierson," her father continued, "and we have agreed that there must be no suppression of the truth. My dislike to Oliver Trent has been commented on already, and I must give a reason for it. Lesley, my dear, you will have to contribute your own evidence as to the reason."

Lesley looked up with terrified, wide-open eyes. "Do you mean that I shall have to say----"

"You will have to go into the witness-box and tell what you know, or rather answer the questions that are asked you."

"But will that be--best--for you?" She put the question with some difficulty.

"That is not the point. What we have to do is to tell the truth, and leave the result to others."

"--To G.o.d?" Lesley interposed, almost involuntarily. Caspar Brooke's lip moved with a grave smile.

"Well, yes, to G.o.d if you will have it so--we use different terms, but perhaps we have the same meaning. We must at any rate leave the result to the working of various laws which we cannot control, and to fight against these laws of nature is wrong-doing--or sin. Therefore, Lesley, you will have to tell the truth, whether it may seem to be for my good or my harm."

She glanced at him rather piteously, and her eyes filled with tears.