My Lady's Money

Mr. Troy started. The new direction in which he was pushing his inquiries began to look like the right direction already. 'Miss Isabel Miller,' he proceeded, 'has been a resident under your Ladyship's roof for some little time, I believe?'

'For nearly two years, Mr. Troy.'

'As your Ladyship's companion and reader?'

'As my adopted daughter,' her Ladyship answered, with marked emphasis.

Wise Mr. Troy rightly interpreted the emphasis as a warning to him to suspend the examination of her Ladyship, and to address to Mr. Moody the far more serious questions which were now to come.

'Did anyone give you the letter before you left the house with it?' he said to the steward. 'Or did you take it yourself?'

'I took it myself, from the table here.'

'Was it sealed?'

'Yes.'

'Was anybody present when you took the letter from the table?'

'Miss Isabel was present.'

'Did you find her alone in the room?'

'Yes, sir.'

Lady Lydiard opened her lips to speak, and checked herself. Mr. Troy, having cleared the ground before him, put the fatal question.

'Mr. Moody,' he said, 'when Miss Isabel was instructed to seal the letter, did she know that a bank-note was inclosed in it?'

Instead of replying, Robert drew back from the lawyer with a look of horror. Lady Lydiard started to her feet— and checked herself again, on the point of speaking.

'Answer him, Moody,' she said, putting a strong constraint on herself.

Robert answered very unwillingly. 'I took the liberty of reminding her ladyship that she had left her letter unsealed,' he said. 'And I mentioned as my excuse for speaking,'—he stopped, and corrected himself —'I believe I mentioned that a valuable inclosure was in the letter.'

'You believe?' Mr. Troy repeated. 'Can't you speak more positively than that?'

'I can speak positively,' said Lady Lydiard, with her eyes on the lawyer. 'Moody did mention the inclosure in the letter—in Isabel Miller's hearing as well as in mine.' She paused, steadily controlling herself. 'And what of that, Mr. Troy?' she added, very quietly and firmly.

Mr. Troy answered quietly and firmly, on his side. 'I am surprised that your Ladyship should ask the question,' he said.

'I persist in repeating the question,' Lady Lydiard rejoined. 'I say that Isabel Miller knew of the inclosure in my letter—and I ask, What of that?'

'And I answer,' retorted the impenetrable lawyer, 'that the suspicion of theft rests on your Ladyship's adopted daughter, and on nobody else.'

'It's false!' cried Robert, with a burst of honest indignation. 'I wish to God I had never said a word to you about the loss of the bank-note! Oh, my Lady! my Lady! don't let him distress you! What does he know about it?'

'Hush!' said Lady Lydiard. 'Control yourself, and hear what he has to say.' She rested her hand on Moody's shoulder, partly to encourage him, partly to support herself; and, fixing her eyes again on Mr. Troy, repeated his last words, ''Suspicion rests on my adopted daughter, and on nobody else.' Why on nobody else?'

'Is your Ladyship prepared to suspect the Rector of St. Anne's of embezzlement, or your own relatives and equals of theft?' Mr. Troy asked. 'Does a shadow of doubt rest on the servants? Not if Mr. Moody's evidence is to be believed. Who, to our own certain knowledge, had access to the letter while it was unsealed? Who was alone in the room with it? And who knew of the inclosure in it? I leave the answer to your Ladyship.'

'Isabel Miller is as incapable of an act of theft as I am. There is my answer, Mr. Troy.'

The lawyer bowed resignedly, and advanced to the door.

'Am I to take your Ladyship's generous assertion as finally disposing of the question of the lost bank-note?' he inquired.

Lady Lydiard met the challenge without shrinking from it.

'No!' she said. 'The loss of the bank-note is known out of my house. Other persons may suspect this innocent girl as you suspect her. It is due to Isabel's reputation—her unstained reputation, Mr. Troy!—that she should know what has happened, and should have an opportunity of defending herself. She is in the next room, Moody. Bring her here.'

Robert's courage failed him: he trembled at the bare idea of exposing Isabel to the terrible ordeal that awaited her. 'Oh, my Lady!' he pleaded, 'think again before you tell the poor girl that she is suspected of theft. Keep it a secret from her—the shame of it will break her heart!'

'Keep it a secret,' said Lady Lydiard, 'when the Rector and the Rector's wife both know of it! Do you think they will let the matter rest where it is, even if I could consent to hush it up? I must write to them; and I can't write anonymously after what has happened. Put yourself in Isabel's place, and tell me if you would thank the person who knew you to be innocently exposed to a disgraceful suspicion, and who concealed it from you? Go, Moody! The longer you delay, the harder it will be.'

With his head sunk on his breast, with anguish written in every line of his face, Moody obeyed. Passing slowly