“There is no offence, George.  Yes, I don’t mind telling you that I had hoped so myself, but it was not to be.  You see, Miss Greendale has known me since she was a child, and she has never thought of me in any other way than as a sort of cousin—­someone she liked very much, but had never thought of for a moment as one she could marry.  That is all past and gone, but I should be sorry, most sorry, for her to marry Carthew, knowing what I do of him.”

“But it must not be, sir,” George said, vehemently.  “You can never let that sweet young lady marry that black-hearted villain.”

“Unfortunately I cannot prevent it, George.”

“Why, sir, you would only have to tell her about Martha, and I am sure it would do for his business.  Miss Greendale can know nothing about it.  So far as I can remember, she was not more than sixteen at the time.  I don’t suppose Lady Greendale ever heard of it.  She knew, of course, of Martha’s being missing, because it made quite a stir, but I don’t suppose that she heard of her coming back.  She was only at home three weeks before she died.  There were not many that ever saw her, and father told me that he and the others made it so hot for Carthew one day at Chippenham market that he never came down again, and sold the place soon after.  I don’t suppose the gentry ever heard anything about it.  If they had, Lady Greendale would surely never let her daughter marry him.”

“No, I feel sure she would not; but still, George, I don’t see that I can possibly interfere in the matter.  The story is three years old now, and even if it had only happened yesterday, I, after what has occurred between us, could not come forward as his accuser.  It would have the appearance of spite on my side; and besides, I have no proof whatever.  He would, of course, deny the whole thing.  I do not mean that he would deny that she said so—­he could not do that—­but he might declare that she had spoken falsely, and might even say that it was an attempt to put another’s sin on his shoulders.  Moreover, as I told you, I have other reasons for disliking the man, and, on the face of it, it would seem that I had raked up this old story against him, not only from jealousy, but from personal malice.

“No, it is out of the question that I should interfere.  I would give everything that I am worth to be able to do so, but it is impossible.  If I had full and unquestionable proofs I would go to Lady Greendale and lay the matter before her.  But I have no such proofs.  There is nothing whatever except that poor girl’s word against his.”

George’s lips closed, and an expression of grim determination came over his face.

“I dare say you are right, Major,” he said, after a pause; “but it seems to me hard that Miss Greendale should be sacrificed to a man like that.”