The incident flashed back upon Margaret's memory, and she groaned.
"If I had only known what that start of his meant!" murmured Austin Ambrose. "Yes, he confessed the crime! He sent you a message by me——"
She looked up and put up her hand.
"Do not tell me! Do not mention his name again!" she cried hoarsely.
"I must tell you," he said gently; "I promised! He implored your forgiveness! Reparation, he knows is impossible; not even the remorse, which will haunt him as long as his life lasts, can invent any way of undoing the wrong he has wrought you! He consigned you to my care, Miss Margaret, and I have undertaken readily—yes, very readily—to see that your future is not further darkened by want."
Margaret rose and clutched the table.
—"You—you offer me money; you, too! And his money!" she panted.
Austin Ambrose hung his head and sighed.
"You will let me be your friend?" he pleaded in a soft voice.
Margaret pushed the hair from her white forehead.