"He is presented to Hazeldon
Chapel, I hear. Did his rupture with you take place _after_ that
occurrence?"
"I see what you are thinking," she impulsively cried, caring too much
for Mr. Yorke not to defend him. "The chief fault of the parting was
mine. I felt that it would not do to become his wife, being--being--"
she hesitated much--"Arthur's sister. I believe that he also felt it.
Indeed, Mr. Huntley, there is no help for it; nothing can be done."
"Knowing what I do of William Yorke, I am sure that the pain of
separation must be keen, whatever may be his pride. Constance, unless I
am mistaken, it is equally keen to you."
Again rose the soft damask blush to the face of Constance. But she
answered decisively. "Mr. Huntley, I pray you to allow the subject to
cease. Nothing can bring about the renewal of the engagement between
myself and Mr. Yorke. It is irrevocably at an end."
"Until Arthur shall be cleared, you mean?"
"No," she answered--a vision of Hamish and _his_ guilt flashing across
her--"I mean for good."
"Why does not Arthur assert his innocence to Mr. Yorke? Constance, I am
sure you know, as well as I do, that he is not guilty. _Has_ he
asserted it?"
She made no answer.
"As I would have wished to serve you, so will I serve Arthur," said Mr.
Huntley. "I told your father and mother, Constance, that I should make
it my business to investigate the charge against him; I shall leave not
a stone unturned to bring his innocence to light.
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