'Oh, ma'am! those men were saying horrid things,' her nurse said to her
that night.

'Yes; very horrid things. I know it all. It is part of a wicked plot to
rob Mr. Caldigate of his money. It is astonishing the wickedness that
people will contrive. It is very very sad. I don't know how long it may
be before Mr. Caldigate can prove it all.'

'But he can prove it all, ma'am?'

'Of course he can. The truth can always be proved at last. I trust there
will be no one about the place to doubt him. If there were such a one, I
would not speak to him,--though it were my own father; though it were my
own mother.' Then she took the baby in her arms, as though fearing that
the nurse herself might not be loyal.

'I don't think there will be any as knows master, will be wrong enough
for that,' said the nurse, understanding what was expected of her. After
that, but not quite readily, the baby was once more trusted to her.

On the following morning Caldigate rode into the town, and as he put his
horse up at the inn, he felt that the very ostler had heard the story.
As he walked along the street, it seemed to him that everyone he met
knew all about it. Robert Bolton would, of course, have heard it; but
nevertheless he walked boldly into the attorney's office. His fault at
the time was in being too bold in manner, in carrying himself somewhat
too erect, in assuming too much confidence in his eye and mouth. To act
a part perfectly requires a consummate actor; and there are phases in
life in which acting is absolutely demanded. A man cannot always be at
his ease, but he should never seem to be discomfited. For petty troubles
the amount of acting necessary is so common that habit has made it
almost natural. But when great sorrows come it is hard not to show
them,--and harder still not to seem to hide them.

When he entered the private room he found that the old man was there
with his son. He shook hands, of course, with both of them, and then he
stood a moment silent to hear how they would address him. But as they
also were silent he was compelled to speak. 'I hope you got home all
right, sir, yesterday; and Mrs. Bolton.'

The old man did not answer, but he turned his face round to his son. 'I
hear that you had that man Crinkett out at Folking yesterday,' said
Robert.

'He was there, certainly, to my sorrow.'

'And another with him?'

'Yes; and another with him, whom I had also known at Nobble.'

'And they were brought in to br