"You poor little devil," said Herries pityingly, "when these things are settled we must see if we can get you a good home," and so saying he patted the miserable Alice on her head of tangled hair and walked into the parlour.
Maud had revived, as Señora Guzman had dashed water on her face with no gentle hand, and was now standing at the end of the room, looking at her with extreme aversion. Maud herself, with all the spirit knocked out of her, was seated at the table with her face hidden in her hands, weeping silently. Badly as the girl had behaved, her cousin could not help feeling sorry for her, especially, when she raised her small, pathetic, childish face. He closed the door, and came forward gravely.
"Well, Maud, and what have you to say to this accusation?"
"Nothing,--I'm sure I was very fond of poor pa," she sobbed, looking a woeful spectacle with her damp dress and tearful face. "No one was more sorry than I was when he was killed."
"You were not sorry for me," Herries could not help remarking.
"I thought you had killed pa."
"What? When you accused Señora Guzman of the crime, to my wife."
The Mexican lady started, and her fine eyes flashed. "You accused me," she said, drawing herself up.
"Yes! and I believe you did it," said Maud, raising her head and darting a malignant look at her rival.
For the moment it looked as though Donna Maria would fling herself on her enemy, but controlling her temper with a violent effort, she laughed coldly.