"Indeed it is," implored the lady, her eyes swimming with tears. "I beg your pardon sincerely for offering you money. I know you are loyal and kind and—I'm ashamed of myself. I have suffered so much since last night that—as you say, I must be mad."
It was a strange picture—this brilliant beauty, forgetful of pride and station, humbling herself to a poor candle seller. Alice looked at her in wonder.
"I don't understand yet why you came to me," she said.
"I want to make amends for the harm I have done, I want to save M. Kittredge—not for myself. Don't think that! He has gone out of my life and will never come into it again. I want to save him because it's right that I should, because he has been accused of this crime through me and I know he is innocent."
"Ah," murmured Alice joyfully, "you know he is innocent."
"Yes; and, if necessary, I will give evidence to clear him. I will tell exactly what happened."
"What happened where?"
"In the room where this man was—was shot. Ugh!" She pressed her hands over her eyes as if to drive away some horrid vision.
"You were—there?" asked the girl.
The woman nodded with a wild, frightened look. "Don't ask me about it. There isn't time now and—I told him everything."