And she had
been at the Shivering Sand, that evening, under circumstances which
were highly suspicious, to say the least of them. For all these reasons
(sorry as I was for Rosanna) I could not but think that Mr. Franklin's
way of looking at the matter was neither unnatural nor unreasonable, in
Mr. Franklin's position. I said a word to him to that effect.
"Yes, yes!" he said in return. "But there is just a chance--a very poor
one, certainly--that Rosanna's conduct may admit of some explanation
which we don't see at present. I hate hurting a woman's feelings,
Betteredge! Tell the poor creature what I told you to tell her. And if
she wants to speak to me--I don't care whether I get into a scrape or
not--send her to me in the library." With those kind words he laid down
the cue and left me.
Inquiry at the servants' offices informed me that Rosanna had retired to
her own room. She had declined all offers of assistance with thanks, and
had only asked to be left to rest in quiet. Here, therefore, was an end
of any confession on her part (supposing she really had a confession
to make) for that night. I reported the result to Mr. Franklin, who,
thereupon, left the library, and went up to bed.
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