"Yes?" he said interrogatively; and then--
"Why do you look at me like that, Mrs. Beatrice?"
"It is what you said. Do you really think that, Mr. Torridon?"
"Do you truly think he always has an escape ready?" repeated the girl.
"You mean he is in danger," he said steadily. "Well, of course he is. There is no great man that is not. But I do not see why he should not escape as he has always done."
"Why, yes;" went on Ralph, a little hastily. "You remember the matter of the bribe. See how he cleared himself. Surely, Mrs. Beatrice--"
"And you really think so," said the girl. "I know that you know what we do not; and I shall believe what you say."
"How can I tell?" remonstrated Ralph. "I can only tell you that in this matter I know nothing that you do not. Master More is under no suspicion."
"I am glad I spoke to you, sir," she said. "It has been on my mind. And something that he said a few minutes ago frightened me."
"What did he say?" asked Ralph curiously.
"Ah! it was not much. It was that no man knew what might come next; that matters were very strange and dismaying--and--and that he wanted this paper copied quickly, for fear--"
"I know what you feel, Mrs. Beatrice," said Ralph gently. "I know how you love Master More, and how terrified we may become for our friends."
"What do you think yourself, Mr. Torridon," she said suddenly, almost interrupting him.
He looked at her doubtfully a moment, and half wished that Margaret would come back.
"Well, you know what I mean," she said coolly, completely herself again. She was sitting back in her chair now, drawing the paper serenely to and fro between her fingers; and he could see the firelight on her chin and brows, and those steady eyes watching him. He had an impulse of confidence.
"I do think changes are coming," he said. "I suppose we all do."
"Oh! how can I say off-hand?--But I think changes are needed."
She was looking down at the fire again now, and did not speak for a moment.
"Master More said you were of the new school," she said meditatively.
Ralph felt a curious thrill of exultation. Margaret was right then; this girl had been thinking about him.
"There is certainly a stirring," he said; and his voice was a little restrained.
"Oh, I am not blind or deaf," said the girl. "Of course, there is a stirring--but I wondered--"