“Oh, I don’t know what to do—what to say—let me think.”
“Yes, dear, think all you like. Take it quietly now. Remember that a decision in my favor means also a calm, peaceful and happy life insured to your parents. Refusal means a broken, shattered life, a precarious existence, and never a happy day for them again. Can you hesitate? I’m not so very unpresentable as a husband. You may not love me now, but you will! I’ll be so good to you that you can’t help it. Nor do I mean to win your heart only by what I shall do for you. For, Maida dearest, love begets love, and you will find yourself slowly perhaps, but surely, giving me your heart. And we will be so happy! Is it yes, my darling?”
The girl stared at him, her big brown eyes full of agony.
“You forget something,” she said, slowly. “I am a murderess!”
“Hush! Don’t say that awful word! You are not—and even if you were, I’ll prove you are not! Listen, Maida, if you’ll promise to marry me, I’ll find the real murderer—not you or your father, but the real murderer. I’ll get a signed confession—I’ll acquit you and your family of any implication in the deed, and I’ll produce the criminal himself. Now, will you say yes?”
“You can’t do all that,” she said, speaking in an awestruck whisper, as if he had proposed to perform a miracle.
“I can—I swear it!”
“Then, if you can do that, you ought to do it, anyway! In the interests of right and justice, in common honesty and decency, you ought to tell what you know!”
“Maida, I am a man and I am in love with you. That explains much. I will do all I have promised, to gain you as my bride—but not otherwise. As to right and justice—you’ve confessed the crime, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”