Isa rather sank than seated herself upon a chair; a cold shiver ran through her frame; she knew not if the overpowering sensations which oppressed her arose only from the reaction after painful excitement, or if she were indeed sickening for a terrible complaint.
“I may be delirious ere morning,” thought Isa; “I must speak now, or I never may have power to speak. May it not be deemed providential that I am given an opportunity of confession by this midnight interview with Cora!”
“Miss Gritton, you look sadly ill,” said Cora, with more of sympathy than Isa had ever before heard in her tone. “Are you very anxious regarding your brother?”
“I am very anxious indeed,” replied Isa faintly, glancing at the closed door which divided the ladies from the room in which Mrs. Holdich was resting, to be sure that no ear but Cora’s should hear what she was bracing up her courage to say. “Miss Madden, I have come charged with a message to you from Gaspar.” Isa paused, for she was very breathless; her heart fluttered—she had a strange difficulty in articulating her words; she dared not look up and meet the keen gaze which she was certain was fixed upon her. “My brother believes—feels sure—that there is no evidence which could be produced in a court of law which could bring home to him that—that of which you have been led to suspect him.” Another very painful pause; Isa pressed her hand to her side to still the throbbing of her heart. “But,” she continued with an effort, “Gaspar knows—owns—that though man cannot convict, there is a higher tribunal than man’s, and before it he cannot plead his innocence. It was indeed not your property which was lost in the Orissa—your money is in the hands of my brother, and shall be restored, principal and interest; you shall have ample satisfaction as far as gold can give it. And oh, Cora—Miss Madden—will not this compensation suffice? will you not forgive all the past, and spare the reputation of him who thus throws himself on your indulgence? will you not shield from reproach one who is ready amply to redeem the wrong committed under strong temptation, and show your generosity by burying this unhappy affair in silence and oblivion?”
Isa clasped her hands as she spoke in the fervour of her pleading; her eyes suddenly raised met those of Cora, and to her surprise beheld them brimming over with tears.
Cora rose from her seat. “O Isa,” she exclaimed, “fear nothing from me! Had the wrong been tenfold, I have learned from you how to forgive—and much besides!” And with a burst of emotion, which all her pride could not restrain, Cora threw her arms around Isa, who found herself, to her great astonishment, pressed to the heart of one who had been her bitter, malignant enemy.
THE CONFESSION.