' And you would not recognize any of them again were you to see them?'
' I should not,' Ned replied. ' None of them stood out prominently among the others.'
' You speak, Mr. Sankey,' Mr. Thompson said, ' as if
your sympathies were rather on the side of these men, who would have burned your mill, and probably have murdered you, than against them.'
' I do not sympathize with the measures the men are taking to obtain redress for what they regard as a grievance; but I do sympathize very deeply with the amount of suffering which they are undergoing from the introduction of machinery and the high prices of provisions; and I am not surprised that, desperate as they are, and ignorant as they are, they should be led astray by bad advice. Is there any other question that you wish to ask me?'
' Nothing at present, I think,' Mr. Simmonds said after consulting his colleague by a look. ' We shall, of course, forward a report of the affair to the proper authorities, and I may say that although you appear to take it in a very quiet and matter-of-fact way, you have evidently behaved with very great courage and coolness, and in a manner most creditable to yourself. I think, however, that you ought immediately to have made a report to us of the circumstances, in order that we might at once have determined what steps should be taken for the pursuit and apprehension of the rioters.'
Ned made no reply, but rising, bowed slightly to the three gentlemen and walked quietly from the room.
'A singular young fellow!' Major Browne remarked as the door closed behind him. ' I don't quite know what to make of him, but I don't think he could have committed that murder. It was a cowardly business, and although I believe he might have a hand in any desperate
affair, as indeed this story he has just told us shows, I would lay my life he would not do a cowardly one.'
'I agree with you,' Mr. Simmonds said, 'though I own that I have never been quite able to rid myself of a vague suspicion that he was guilty.'
' And I believe he is so still,' Mr. Thompson said. ' To me there is something almost devilish about that lad's manner.'
' His manner was pleasant enough,' Mr. Simmonds said warmly, ' before that affair of Mulready. He was as nice a lad as you would wish to see till his mother was fool enough to get engaged to that man, who, by the way, I never liked. No wonder his manner is queer now; so would yours be, or mine, if we were tried for murder and, though acquitted, knew there was still a general impression of our guilt.'
' Yes, by Jove,' the officer said, ' I should be inclined to shoot myself. You are wrong, Mr. Thompson, take my word for it. That young fellow never committed a cowardly murder. I think you told me, Mr. Simmonds, that he had intended to go into the army had it not been for this affair? Well, his majesty has lost a good officer, for that is just the sort of fellow who would lead a forlorn hope though he knew the breach was mined in a dozen places. It is a pity, a terrible pity!'
CHAPTER XVIII.
NED IS ATTACKED.
S Ned had foreseen and resented, the affair at the mill again made him the chief topic of talk in the neighbourhood, and the question of his guilt or innocence of the murder of his stepfather was again debated with as much earnestness as it had been when the murder was first committed. There was this difference, however, that whereas before he had found but few defenders, for the impression that he was guilty was almost universal, there were now many who took the other view.
The one side argued that a lad who was ready to blow himself and two or three hundred men into the air was so desperate a character that he would not have been likely to hesitate a moment in taking the life of a man whom he hated, and who had certainly ill-treated him. The other side insisted that one with so much cool courage would not have committed a murder in so cowardly a way as by tying a rope across the road which his enemy had to traverse. One party characterized his conduct at the mill as that of the captain of a pirate ship, the other likened it to any of the great deeds of devotion told in history—the death of Leonidas and his three hundred, or the devotion of Mutius Scsevola.
Had Ned chosen now he might have gathered round himself a strong party of warm adherents, for there were many who, had they had the least encouragement, would have been glad to shake him by the hand and to show their partisanship openly and warmly; but Ned did not choose. The doctor and Mr. Porson strongly urged upon him that he should show some sort of willingness to meet the advances which many were anxious to make.
' These people are all willing to admit that they have been wrong, Ned, and really anxious to atone as far as they can for their mistake in assuming that you were guilty. Now is your time, my boy; what they believe to-day others will believe to-morrow; it is the first step towards living it down. I always said it would come, but I hardly ventured to hope that it would come so soon.'
'I can't do it, Mr. Porson; I would if I could, if only for the sake of the others; but I can't talk, and smile, and look pleasant. When a man knows that his mother lying at home thinks that he is a murderer how is he to go about like other people?'
' But I have told you over and over again, Ned, that your mother is hardly responsible for her actions. She has never been a very reasonable being, and is less so than ever at present. Make an effort, my boy, and mix with others. Show yourself at the cricket-match next week.
You know the boys are all your firm champions, and I warrant that half the people there will flock round you and make much of you if you will but give them the chance.'
But Ned could not, and did not, but went on his way as before, living as if Marsden had no existence for him, intent upon his work at the mill, and unbending only when at home with his brother and sister.
His new friend, Cartwright, was, of course, one of the first to congratulate him on the escape the mill had had of destruction.
' I was wondering what you would do if they came,' he said, 'and was inclined to think you were a fool for not following my example and having some of your hands to sleep at the mill. Your plan was best, I am ready to allow; that is to say, it was best for anyone who was ready to carry out his threat if driven to it. I shouldn't be, I tell you fairly. If the mill is attacked I shall fight and shall take my chance of being shot, but I could not blow myself up in cold blood.'
' I don't suppose I could have done so either in the old times,' Ned said with a faint smile. ' My blood used to be hot enough, a good deal too hot, but I don't think anything could get it up to boiling point now, so you see if this thing had to be done at all it must have been in cold blood.'
'By the way, Sankey, I wish you would come over one day next week and dine with me; there will be no one else there except my daughter.'
Ned hastily muttered an excuse.
' Oh, that is all nonsense!' Mr. Cartwright said good-humouredly; 'you are not afraid of me, and you needn't be afraid of my daughter. She is only a child of fifteen, and of course takes you at my estimate, and is disposed to regard you as a remarkable mixture of the martyr and the hero, and to admire you accordingly. Pooh, pooh, lad! you can't be living like a hermit all your life; and at any-rate if you make up your mind to have but a few friends you must be all the closer and more intimate with them. I know you dine with Porson and Green, and I am not going to let you keep me at arm's-length; you must come, or else I shall be seriously offended.'
So Ned had no resource left him, and had to consent to dine at Liversedge. Once there he often repeated the visit. With the kind and hearty manufacturer he was perfectly at home, and although at first he was uncomfortable with his daughter he gradually became at his ease with her, especially after she had driven over with her father to make friends with Lucy, and, again, a short time afterwards, to carry her away for a week's visit at Livers-edge. For this Ned was really grateful. Lucy's life had been a very dull one. She had no friends of her own age in Marsden, for naturally at the time of Mr. Mulready's death all intimacy with the few acquaintances they had in the place had been broken off, for few cared that their children should associate with a family among whom such a terrible tragedy had taken place.
Charlie was better off, for he had his friends at school, and the boys at Porson's believed in Ned's innocence as a point of honour. In the first place, it would have been something like a reflection upon the whole school to admit the possibility of its first boy being a murderer; in the second, Ned had been generally popular among them,
