“Oh, my dear father! Is this really true? Is my poor Eudora innocent? Oh, prove that her soul is guiltless of this great crime, and I shall not break my heart—no—not even if she dies for it!” cried Alma, starting up, seizing his hand, and gazing eagerly into his face.
It was the first time their hands had met; and Hollis Elverton shudderingly shook off her grasp, as he answered:
“Yes, it is true.”
“Are you sure of it?”
“As sure of it as I can be of anything on earth.”
“How do you know it? What do you know of it?”
“I know that Eudora Leaton is innocent, and I know who is guilty.”
“Oh, my father! can you prove this? will you prove this?”
“Ah! Alma, moral certainty is not legal evidence! I repeat, I know Eudora Leaton to be innocent, and I know who is guilty; but I have no means as yet to prove the guilt of the one or the innocence of the other. But, Alma, you are the well-wisher of the accused girl?”
“Oh, yes; oh, yes.”