He had confessed all; and he paused, trembling, trying to read his sentence in the eyes of his daughter.
“And can you hesitate?” she demanded.
“Ah! you do not know——”
“I know that Sairmeuse must be given up.”
This was the decree of his own conscience, that faint voice which speaks only in a whisper, but which all the tumult on earth cannot overpower.
“No one saw me take away the chest,” he faltered. “If anyone suspected it, there is not a single proof against me. But no one does suspect it.”
Marie-Anne rose, her eyes flashed with generous indignation.
“My father!” she exclaimed; “oh! my father!”
Then, in a calmer tone, she added:
“If others know nothing of this, can you forget it?”