vidence respecting the murder than her brother. Of this he said
nothing at present, but he had informed Constable Toffy that if
Caroline Brattle were wanted for the examination she would be found
at the house of Mrs. Stiggs.

Thus for an hour or two the peculiar awkwardness of the meeting
between Harry Gilmore and Mary was removed. He was enabled to
talk with energy on a matter of interest, and she could join the
conversation. But when they were round the tea-table it seemed to be
arranged by common consent that Trumbull's murder and the Brattles
should, for a while, be laid aside. Then Mary became silent and
Gilmore became awkward. When inquiries were made as to Miss Marrable,
he did not know whether to seem to claim, or not to claim, that
lady's acquaintance. He could not, of course, allude to his visit
to Loring, and yet he could hardly save himself from having to
acknowledge that he had been there. However, the hour wore itself
away, and he was allowed to take his departure.

During the next two days he did not see Mary Lowthcr. On the Friday
he met her with Mrs. Fenwick as the two were returning from the mill.
They had gone to visit Mrs. Brattle and Fanny, and to administer such
comfort as was possible in the present circumstances. The poor woman
told them that the father was now as silent about his son as about
his daughter, but that he had himself gone over to Heytesbury to
secure legal advice for the lad, and to learn from Mr. Jones, the
attorney, what might be the true aspect of the case. Of what he had
learned he had told nothing to the women at the mill, but the two
ladies had expressed their strong opinion of Sam's innocence. All
this was narrated by Mrs. Fenwick to Gilmore, and Mary Lowther was
enabled to take her part in the narrative. The Squire was walking
between the two, and it seemed to him as he walked that Mary at least
had no desire to avoid him. He became high in hope, and began to wish
that even now, at this moment, he might be left alone with her and
might learn his fate. He parted from them when they were near the
village, and as he went he held Mary's hand within his own for a few
moments. There was no return of his pressure, but it seemed to him
that her hand was left with him almost willingly.

"What do you think of him?" her friend said to her, as soon as he had
parted from them.

"What do I think of him? I have always thought well of him."

"I know you have; to think otherwise of one