"Bowles said from what he saw and heard from a miserable boy--who, by the way, belongs to your village--that Stephens had got down to a very low ebb with want of food and want of rest, and the shock was too great. It really was very affecting, the boy's grief and all that, and this morning the house is besieged. I think the poor fellow must have had some good in him, in spite of the ugly look his silence has." When Mr Bennett had gone, Mr Robert came back to the library, rubbing his hands. "Well, Charles," he said. "Well, my dear Robert." "I am going to the cottage at once." "I would go with you if this lumbago only left me the power of moving. But let me forewarn you not to expect a very warm reception from Anthony." "Warm or not, I couldn't stay away an hour. I shall go on to Hardlands, and perhaps somehow or other get a lift to the Milmans or to Stanton. It seems a sin to leave that matter uncleared another day. You'll write to Pitt, Charles," added his brother, suddenly becoming grave. "I suppose we both guess who was the other person?" "I am afraid we do." "It was sheer folly to have sacrificed himself, but, naturally, their relationship added to his reluctance. Well, we have no right to make other people acquainted with what is simply conjecture, but I shall be surprised if others besides ourselves do not put two and two together." "Nevertheless, remember that as the story cannot be made altogether clear, we may expect incredulity yet." "The story is clear enough," said Mr Robert, indignantly. "Nobody can doubt it who is not wilfully malicious. Anthony's statement was that on a certain date he had received no letter. People could not prove that he had, but it was just open to doubt,--upon my word, I don't think I'll ever doubt again to my dying day,--now comes a witness who can swear that Anthony is correct, who saw the letter in other hands, and produces a portion of that letter destroyed. What on earth can be asked for more? If you are not satisfied, Charles, I shall say you are as unreasonable as Stokes." He went away laughing and rubbing his hands. The day was warm and damp, the clouds had a uniform tint of grey, drops clung to the beautiful bare boughs, which had so much cheerful undergrowth of green that they lost their wintry aspect, as Mr Robert started on his triumphal progress, which, however, like other triumphs, was not free from disappointment. Anthony was not at the cottage, and Mrs Miles would have resented any rejoicing over a proof which it seemed to her absolutely wickedness to demand. Mr Mannering could not be sure that her son had told her anything, and the only compensation of which he dared to avail himself was praise of Anthony's courage the night before. "Which way has he gone?" he asked, as he stood at the door. "I think he has walked up to Hardlands. I wish he would have kept quiet to-day, after the shock and all," said Mrs Miles, proudly.