"The work of twenty years!" whispered Aurora Lane to herself. "Twenty years! And—ruin!" Her voice rose again. "What about us others? You're talking about yourself, your reputation, your success—how about Don? His life's at stake. So is mine—I'd not survive it if they killed my boy."
"What's he to you, anyhow?" broke out Judge Henderson—"this man Brooks? Are you in any conspiracy of his? What's under this? What's he to you? Was he ever—has he ever——"
"Stop!" said Aurora Lane, her voice sharp, her face cameo-cold. "Not another word!" And even the sullen and distracted soul of the man before her acknowledged the imperative command. "You traded him out of his place. You're trying to trade now in your own son's life! Is that—can that really be true of any man?"
"Don't bait me too far!" he rejoined savagely. "Don't you go on now and drive me into fighting these charges."
"I don't think you would, Uncle," said the calm voice of Anne Oglesby. "I don't think you would.
"So this," she added softly, "is what my guardian was! In loco parentis!"
The man before her writhed in his own bitter suffering, flinging out his hands imploringly under the lash of her words.
"Anne! Anne!"—Aurora turned to the girl at her side—"I wish all this might have been spared you. You're so young! But it all had to come out some time, I suppose, and I'd rather have you learn it from me than from Don. You've not seen him—he has not told you?"
"No. We only had a moment—not alone—just a little while ago. They took him away—I didn't know why, till just now. We've just heard what the coroner's jury said. But I'll not leave him till he tells me, to, and only then if he says he doesn't love me."
"He could never say that!" said Aurora Lane. "But I told him he must leave you."