The squire had been
discussing the Clough tragedy with great warmth; for Lord Eltham had
not unnaturally judged Ben Craven upon the apparent evidence, and was
inclined to think his position, whether he was innocent or guilty,
one of great danger. Hallam would not see things in any such light.
He had lived only in the morally healthy atmosphere of the woods and
fields, and the sinful tragedies of life had not been actual to him.
True, he had read of them in his weekly paper, but it was a different
thing when they came to his own door, and called for his active
sympathy.
"Right is right, Eltham," he said, with the emphasis of one closed
hand striking the other; "and it 'ud be a varry queer thing if right
should turn out to be wrong. It'll do nowt o' t' sort, not it."
"But, Hallam, it seems to me that you hev made up your mind that
Craven is right--right or wrong--and lawyer Swale told me t' evidence
was all against him."
"Swale!" replied the squire, snapping his fingers disdainfully. "Why-a!
Swale nivver told t' truth i' all his life, if he nobbut hed t' time
to make up a lie. As for Bingley, I wish I hed sent him over t' seas
when I hed t' chance to do it--he's none fit to breathe t' air in a
decent country."
"But Swale says that Bill Laycock has acknowledged that he also
saw Craven in his working clothes running over t' moor just about t'
time Clough was shot, and Bill and Craven were at one time all but
brothers.
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