‘Before I tell you, why did you come here—for any special object, I mean?’
‘Yes. I came, hearing you had refused—and in my opinion rightly refused—to see Mr. Tressamer. I came, taking the privilege of an old friend of your father’s and your own, to ask if I might appear for you in the court to which your case is being taken.’
‘Ah, then there is a Providence. I am not quite deserted!’
She spoke in half irony, and then all at once broke down, and began sobbing as if her heart would break.
‘Miss Owen!—don’t, Eleanor!’ cried her friend in alarm and distress. ‘Do try and be calm. All will end happily yet, believe me. I swear to you I will never rest till your innocence is established by the discovery of the real criminal!’
For some time she wept on without replying. At last the sobs grew feebler, and she lifted her head.
‘Oh, if you knew,’ she said, ‘what I have gone through these last two months—no, I ought to say these last two years, since my father died, and that you are the first to speak to me in tones that I can trust, you would not wonder that I weep. Sometimes I have felt it too much to bear, and I have actually thought before now of writing to you to tell you all my troubles.’
‘To me! Why, do you—are you——’
She checked him gently.
‘To you, as to my oldest friend, whose memory I could recall with trust and confidence. I am speaking now of a time that has passed. Now I shall never consent to claim anyone as my friend—if I live—until this horrible stain has been wiped off my name.’