“And I came here without any fault of mine! Oh, believe it! You knew and honored my father! Oh, for his sake believe that his only child did not—could not—commit the dreadful crimes falsely charged upon her!” said Eudora, earnestly, clasping her hands, and throwing her glance, full of impassioned truthfulness, up to the woman’s face.
“And ’spite of the evidence, I don’t think you did, Miss; for being of your father’s daughter, it don’t stand to reason as you could.”
“It was all because I was the sole attendant of—”
“Miss, Miss, you mustn’t talk of your business to me nor to anyone else, except your lawyer, for fear o’ letting out something as might be brought against you on your trial,” interrupted Mrs. Barton.
“What, not to you, who were my father’s friend, and are mine?” asked Eudora, in surprise.
“No, Miss, ’cause how do I know! they might even pull me up for a witness; best be cautious.”
“But I am guiltless, and being so, how can I say anything to injure my cause?”
“I dunnot know, Miss; but they do tell as how you let out many things afore the Squire as had better been kept in.”
“I spoke only the truth of what I had done; and I had done only what was right. The whole world was welcome to know it, and I do not see how it could hurt me.”
“Yes, Miss, but then the best of truth do get so turned upside down and wrong side out by them lawyers, as you couldn’t tell it from the worst of falsehoods; and so, if so be you can’t say anything to clear yourself, best keep a still tongue in your head. But depend upon this, Miss—as Sarah Barton will do everything she lawfully can do to help and comfort your father’s daughter.”