The Squire pronounced all these words--even the last--in the same cold, even tone, as if he would not disturb himself enough to have anger in his voice; and the dark eyebrows that always seemed so black beneath his white hair were not drawn lower than usual on his eyes. But the lines of his face, which were always fine and subtle, appeared as hard as if they had been graved with an instrument; and, to one who had been accustomed to be treated by him with the utmost gentleness, his tone and glance must have been like a scourge of steel. A proud nature is not won in this manner to repentance and confession; but Mr Mallory was hardly in the mood for inducing penitence. ‘Did you open my letter?’ he asked, after a pause, with a glance which was not that of a dreamer now. There was time for the delight of the butler to become more strongly marked before the low answer was audible in the room. ‘No, sir, I did not.’ They were the first words Nat had spoken since he had been brought into the house, and he spoke in a tone that was in accordance with the expression of his face, the hard, sullen tone of defiance and despair. But it must be understood that, during the time that he was silent, burning waves and struggles had been passing through the boy, a doubt whether he should attempt to clear himself by revealing a tale that would be held incredible. He shrank inexplicably from pronouncing Tina’s name; he was not sure that his statement about her would be believed; he was convinced that any attempt to connect her with his fate could only end in involving her in ruin with him. And he told himself--the poor fool! he could tell himself even then--that if he betrayed her she would _never_ speak to him again, and that it was even yet possible that of this dreadful action she might be as innocent as he was himself. If he had been himself absolutely guiltless the shock of the suspicion might have made him reckless about her; or if he had been secure that he could clear himself he might possibly have prevailed on himself to leave her to ruin. But on every side there appeared to be destruction, and he was not conscious of any desire to drag her down with him. His own fate was sealed, he knew that he had been condemned from the moment that he attracted the suspicion of the Squire. The wax candles burned as if they were burning in a dream; the footmen stood by him, ready to lay hold on him; and then, after a pause that was not so long as it seemed, he heard the voice of Mr Mallory again. ‘You did not open my letter?’ said the Squire, in the tone of one who does not attempt to seem credulous. ‘Perhaps you will be kind enough to answer a few more questions. Was this letter given to you at the house of Mr Lee?’ ‘Yes, sir, it was.’ There had been a pause before Nat could speak. ‘And it had been opened then?’ ‘Not as I know on, sir.’ ‘You brought it to me?’ ‘Yes, sir--’ but with hesitation. ‘Was it opened in your presence?’ ‘No, sir, it was not.’