"For unkind judgment of you."
"I am sure you never have misjudged me, dear."
"Oh, yes I have."
"How?"
"It was one day when August had been up to your house. He was dreadfully down in the mouth when he came back from that visit. He'd been jilted he said, by you, and I told him right for ever trying to win the heart of a rich girl. I said some very harsh things of you, Miss, things that I know now weren't true. Of course I can see now that you had some good reason for not wishing to marry a poor engineer, a reason that was above regarding his poverty. I won't ask you what it was, for if the poor boy is dead it won't make any difference, and—and—"
Poor mother.
She broke down then completely, and fell to sobbing on the breast of the sympathetic Rose.
Ah, yes, she knew why she had refused to see the widow's son that eventful day, and it was not poverty that drove him out of her life. Rose, however, would not explain now, nor ever to Mrs. Bordine. She realized that the kindly soul had never realized the truth regarding the dual character of August.
If he never returned it was well that she should think of him always, as now, true and dutiful, a model man and son in every respect.
Officers were now more than ever on the alert. Everybody was anxious to win the magnificent reward, and it now seemed very easy of attainment, since the real murderer was known.