Alice had sent for Gwenda.
Three months had gone by since her sister's wedding, and all her fears
were gathered together in the fear of her father and of what was about
to happen to her.
And before Gwenda could come to her, Rowcliffe and Mary had come to
the Vicar in his study. They had been a long time with him, and then
Rowcliffe had gone out. They had sent him to Upthorne. And the two had
gone into the dining-room and they had her before them there.
It was early in a dull evening in February. The lamps were lit and in
their yellow light Ally's face showed a pale and quivering exaltation.
It was the face of a hunted and terrified thing that has gathered
courage in desperation to turn and stand. She defended herself with
sullen defiance and denial.
It had come to that. For Ned, the shepherd at Upthorne, had told what
he had seen. He had told it to Maggie, who told it to Mrs. Gale. He
had told it to the head-gamekeeper at Garthdale Manor, who had a tale
of his own that he too had told. And Dr. Harker had a tale. Harker had
taken his friend's practice when Rowcliffe was away on his honeymoon.
He had seen Alice and Greatorex on the moors at night as he had driven
home from Upthorne. And he had told Rowcliffe what he had seen. And
Rowcliffe had told Mary and the Vicar.
And at the cottage down by the beck Essy Gale and her mother had
spoken together, but what they had spoken and what they had heard they
had kept secret.
"I haven't been with him," said Alice for the third time. "I don't
know what you're talking about."
"Ally--there's no use your saying that when you've been seen with
him."
It was Mary who spoke.
"I ha--haven't."
"Don't lie," said the Vicar.
"I'm not. They're l-l-lying," said Ally, shaken into stammering now.
"Who do you suppose would lie about it?" Mary said.
"Essy would."
"Well--I may tell you, Ally, that you're wrong. Essy's kept your
secret. So has Mrs. Gale. You ought to go down on your knees and thank
the poor girl--after what you did to her."
"It _was_ Essy. I know. She's mad to marry him herself, so she goes
lying about _me_."
"Nobody's lying about her," said the Vicar, "but herself. And she's
condemning herself with every word she says. You'd better have left
Essy out of it, my girl."
"I tell you that she's lying if she says she's seen me with him. She's
never seen me."
"It wasn't Essy who saw you," Mary said.
"Somebody else is lying then. Who was it?"
"If you _must_ know who saw you," the Vicar said, "it was Dr. Harker.
You were seen a month ago hanging about Upthorne alone with that
fellow."
"Only once," Ally murmured.
"You own to 'once'? You--you----" he stifled with his fury. "Once is
enough with a low blackguard like Greatorex. And you were seen more
than once. You've been seen with him after dark." He boomed. "There
isn't a poor drunken slut in the village who's disgraced herself like
you."