If you were anybody else but Franklin Blake,
and if this matter was one atom less serious than it really is, I should
refuse point-blank. As things are, I firmly believe Rachel will live
to thank me for turning traitor to her in my old age. Consider me your
accomplice. Rachel shall be asked to spend the day here; and you shall
receive due notice of it."
"When? To-morrow?"
"To-morrow won't give us time enough to get her answer. Say the day
after."
"How shall I hear from you?"
"Stay at home all the morning and expect me to call on you."
I thanked him for the inestimable assistance which he was rendering to
me, with the gratitude that I really felt; and, declining a hospitable
invitation to sleep that night at Hampstead, returned to my lodgings in
London.
Of the day that followed, I have only to say that it was the longest day
of my life. Innocent as I knew myself to be, certain as I was that the
abominable imputation which rested on me must sooner or later be cleared
off, there was nevertheless a sense of self-abasement in my mind which
instinctively disinclined me to see any of my friends. We often hear
(almost invariably, however, from superficial observers) that guilt can
look like innocence.
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