"May I now justify myself?"
Then through her soul flashed hope and happiness. She allowed him to take her hand and to lead her to the sofa, and even to place himself beside her.
"I have a confession to make to you, Miss Clifford," he began, "and to make all clear to you I must go far back into my brother's past life. By-and-bye, I may do it at greater length, but now I will only tell you enough to justify myself."
He detained her hand in his, and Jessie left it unresistingly there. She began to believe in the possibility of justification.
"My brother's domestic life was one of bitter experience. An apparently happy wedded life ended in a terrible discovery. He found himself betrayed by his wife and his dearest friend, and the circumstances of the discovery were such that with his domestic happiness fell also his outward prosperity. He neither would nor could remain longer at home, and went to America, where your parents received him. But in Germany he had left his daughter, his only child, who at that time was almost an infant. In his hatred, his bitterness against all, he would not acknowledge the child; it remained with the mother, who after the necessary divorce had married that man."
He paused a moment. Jessie listened in breathless anticipation; over her pale, tear-stained face crept a slight flush, as Gustave continued--
"I was then at the university, and had no means of supporting Frida, and all my representations in her behalf were fruitless. But I have never forsaken my little niece. The poor child had a comfortless youth in that family where her very presence was a rock of offence. Endured against his will by her step-father, treated by her own mother with indifference, nay, almost with aversion, she stood a stranger among her step-brothers and sisters, and with every year more keenly felt her loneliness. As soon as my means permitted, I assumed the rights of an uncle, which were certainly readily granted me, and extricated my niece from these surroundings. I placed her at school, where she remained till her mother's death. That death broke the bond which caused constant bitterness to my brother, and now I determined to come to America and fight for her rights, cost what it might."
"And that was your reason for coming to America?" said Jessie, timidly.
"That alone! I had already made an attempt by letter, but was most harshly repulsed by Frank. He threatened to break off all correspondence with me if I ever touched on the subject again. So then I placed all my hopes on the effect of Frida's own presence, but it at first seemed impossible to carry out this plan. I could not allow a young girl like that to cross the sea alone, and if she had appeared in my company my brother would have instantly had his suspicions roused. Then the death of your father, Miss Clifford, obliged him to think of a new partner, and his thoughts turned to me. Under ordinary circumstances the invitation to cast overboard my fatherland, my calling, and my independence, yes, the very heart and soul of my former life, for the sake of material interests, would have met with the most decided refusal; now it seemed like a sign from heaven itself. I apparently yielded, and started with Frida. She remained in New York while I viewed the field of action, and then introduced her under an assumed name into her father's house. You know what followed. The discovery has cost a last but severe struggle. There was a scene, which threatened to destroy all, but at last the father's heart awoke in my brother's bosom, and now he is reconciled with his child!"
Jessie sat with eyes cast down and glowing cheeks while she listened to this recital, which took one thorn after another from her breast. It seemed to her as if she herself were released from a gloomy oppression, now that the veil which so long had covered the "egoist" had fallen.