"That I do not know. We'll hear from him some day, no doubt."
The woman looked about her, as though still in fear. "Tell me, Mr. Eddring," said she, "did you—did you ever—I mean, do you love that girl yourself?"
"Very much, Madam," said John Eddring, quietly,
"Are you going to marry her?"
"No."
"Then why did she give you her case?"
"I was chosen by her friend, Colonel Blount, as the lawyer best acquainted with these facts."
"Ah! sir," said Mrs. Ellison, turning again upon him the full glance of her dark eyes. "Why? Can you not see—do you not know? Why trouble with a half-baked chit like her? Drop it all, sir. You are lawyer enough to know that my case is as good as hers, if handled well. If I knew one man upon whom I could depend—ah! you do not know, you will not see!"
One hand, white, thick-palmed, shapely, approached his upon the table. He could feel its warmth before it touched his own. Then swiftly he caught the hand in a hard and stern grasp, looking straight into the eyes of its owner. "Madam," said he, "none of this! I have asked you to tell me the truth. I have told you the truth. The truth leaves us very far apart. You are safe; but you must understand." Her eyes sank, and on her cheek the dull flush reappeared.
"Now I want you to go on and answer a few more questions," said
Eddring, finally. "I suppose that while you were all there at the Big
House you were partners, after a fashion. How much did you know of
Delphine's stirring up the negroes in that neighborhood?"