Alice gave a cry that was almost a scream of joy, and then fell on her knees.
“Great God, I thank thee!” she sobbed out. “Merciful God, I thank thee that thou hast taken this great burden off me—that thou hast cleared my brother from this accusation.”
Then, with her face on Carry’s knee, she cried more quietly for some time, Carry crying too, although she hardly even yet comprehended what had happened.
“And is it possible,” she asked at last, when Alice had a little recovered her composure, “that Mr. Maynard has been accused of this? How could such a terrible mistake have occurred?”
“Your own father accused him of it to Captain Bradshaw.”
“Impossible!” Carry said.
Then she rose, opened the door, and called to her father, who was walking nervously up and down the shop during this long interview, to come in.
“Father,” she said, “a dreadful mistake has somehow occurred. Miss Heathcote says that you went to Captain Bradshaw and accused Mr. Maynard—the Mr. Maynard who saved your life, you know, father—of being the cause of my death.”
“God bless my soul!” Mr. Walker exclaimed, in a state of extreme nervous astonishment, “the lady must be mistaken. I never thought of such a thing—it never entered my mind. Why should it?”
Carry looked at Miss Heathcote in perplexity.