"And you never said a word! Never a word!—To clear me!"
"Lettice—I couldn't! How could I?"
She felt the force of the remark. How could he indeed? The marvel was, not that he had not spoken earlier, but that he had spoken now. "Yet, have I not a right to be cleared?" Lettice asked of herself, in a tumult of agitation. "Am I to bear this always—because Keith must shield her?"
It seemed too hard—too much to expect. "I have promised; but I could make Keith give way. I could make him!" came next in the rush of thought.
She saw suddenly a scene in the study—herself confronting Theodosia, accusing Theodosia to Dr. Bryant, and calling upon Keith as a witness. It would be no more than Theodosia deserved. Lettice did not shrink from the pictured scene. Her gentle nature was for once aroused to a glowing energy of anger. What had she done to bring this on her? Nothing could be too bad—no punishment could be too severe—for Theodosia!
Yet she had to forgive! And her pledged word had to be kept. She might not betray the boy.
"But to go away from home, leaving them all to think this of me, when one word might set it right!" she cried passionately in her heart, while outwardly a dumb still figure, only trembling with the shock. "Must I? Must I? May I not do something?—Say something? Oh, it is hard to bear!"
"You don't mind so very much, do you, Lettice? What makes your hand shake? Are you cold?"
"Keith, I want you to tell me all about it—exactly what you saw . . . I am not vexed with you . . . Only I must hear the whole."
He nestled close to her, and spoke in a subdued undertone.