Chapter 12
everybody believed the worst, you sent me a letter saying that you knew I was innocent."
"You told me you tore up the letter," Clare remarked quietly.
Dick's face got red. He had not taken the line he meant to take and was obviously making a mess of things.
"Are you sure I wasn't delirious?"
"I don't think so. Did you tear up the letter?"
He gave her a steady look, for he saw that he must nerve himself to face the situation. It was unfortunate that he was too ill to deal with it properly, but he must do the best he could.
"I'll answer that if you'll tell me how you knew I was innocent."
Clare looked puzzled, as if his manner had jarred; and Dick saw that she was not acting. Her surprise was real. He could not understand this, but felt ashamed of himself.
"In a sense, of course, I didn't know," she answered with a touch of embarrassment. "Still, I felt you didn't steal the plans. It seemed impossible."
"Thank you," said Dick, who was silent for the next few moments. He thought candor was needed and had meant to be frank, but he could not wound the girl who had taken care of him.
"Anyhow, I lost the papers and that was almost as bad," he resumed feebly. "When you get into trouble people don't care much whether you're a rogue or a fool. You're in disgrace and that's all that matters. However, I mustn't bore you with my grumbling. I'm getting better and they want me at the dam."
"Then I suppose you must go as soon as you are able," Clare agreed, and began to talk about something else.
She left him soon and Dick lay still, frowning. It had been a trying interview and he doubted if he had come through it well, but hoped Clare would make allowances for his being ill. He did not want her to think him ungrateful, and had certainly no wish to punish her for what had happened in the past. But she had stolen his papers and he must get away.
He was taken away next morning, with the consent of the doctor, who agreed that the air would be more invigorating on the hill. Clare did not come down to see him off and Dick felt strangely disappointed, although she had wished him a quick recovery on the previous evening. Kenwardine, however, helped him into his hammock and after the carriers started went back to the room where Clare sat. He noted that although the sun was hot the shutter was not drawn across the window, which commanded the street.
"Well," he said, "Mr. Brandon has gone and on the whole that's a relief."
"Do you know why he went so soon?" Clare asked.
Kenwardine sat down and looked at her thoughtfully. He was fond of Clare, though he found her something of an embarrassment now and then. He was not rich and ran certain risks that made his ability to provide for her doubtful, while she had no marked talents to fall back upon if things went against him. There was, however, the possibility that her beauty might enable her to make a good marriage, and although Kenwardine could not do much at present to forward this plan he must try to prevent any undesirable entanglement. Brandon, for example, was not to be thought of, but he suspected Clare of some liking for the young man.
"Yes," he said, "I know and sympathize with him. In fact, I quite see why he found it difficult to stay. The situation was only tolerable while he was very ill."
"Why?"
Kenwardine meant to tell her. It was better that she should smart a little now than suffer worse afterwards.
"As soon as he began to get better Brandon remembered that we were the cause of his misfortunes. You can see how this complicated things."
"But we had nothing to do with them," Clare said sharply. "What made him think we had?"
"It's not an illogical conclusion when he imagines that he lost his papers in our house."
Clare got up with a red flush in her face and her eyes sparkling. "It's absurd!" she exclaimed. "He must have been delirious when he said so."
"He didn't say so in as many words; Brandon has some taste. But he was perfectly sensible and intended me to see what he meant."
The girl stood still, trembling with anger and confusion, and Kenwardine felt sorry for her. She was worse hurt than he had expected, but she would rally.
"But he couldn't have been robbed while he was with us," she said with an effort, trying to understand Dick's point of view. "He hadn't an overcoat, so the plans must have been in the pocket of his uniform, and nobody except myself was near him."
She stopped with a gasp as she remembered how she had slipped and seized Dick. In doing so her hand had caught his pocket. Everything was plain now, and for a few moments she felt overwhelmed. Her face blanched, but her eyes were hard and very bright.
Kenwardine left her, feeling that Brandon would have cause to regret his rashness if he ever attempted to renew her acquaintance, and Clare sat down and tried to conquer her anger. This was difficult, because she had received an intolerable insult. Brandon thought her a thief! It was plain that he did so, because the change in his manner bore out all her father had said, and there was no other explanation. Then she blushed with shame as she realized that from his point of view her unconventional behavior warranted his suspicions. She had asked him to come into the garden and had written him a note! This was horribly foolish and she must pay for it, but she had been mistaken about his character.
She had, as a rule, avoided the men she met at her father's house and had shrunk with frank repugnance from one or two, but Brandon had seemed different. Then he had watched for her when he was ill and she had seen his heavy eyes get brighter when she came into the room. Now, however, she understood him better. She had some beauty and he had been satisfied with her physical attractiveness, although he thought her a thief. This was worse than the coarse admiration of the men she had feared. It was unthinkably humiliating, but her anger helped her to bear the blow. After all, she was fortunate in finding out what Brandon was, since it might have been worse had the knowledge come later. There was a sting in this that rankled, but she could banish him from her thoughts now.