“It must be false,” he echoed, against his own belief; “but the charge has been made, and he must be warned in time.”
“Warned in time?” she cried. “And you, who profess to be our friend, stood by and heard this charge made, and did not strike down the villain who made it.”
“Miss Vine—Louise, you are hasty. The shock I know is terrible, but we must be prepared to meet it. He must not be taken unawares.”
“My brother can meet such a charge as a gentleman should. It is not the first time that so foul an attack has been made against an innocent man.”
“You are too hard upon me,” he pleaded. “How could I, loving you as I do—”
“Loving!” she cried, scornfully.
“What have I done?” he groaned. “I ran up here directly to try and be of service. In my excitement, I spoke words that I should have kept back for a time, but they would have vent, and—No, I am not ashamed of what I have said,” he cried, drawing himself up. “Louise Vine, I love you, and I must help you and your brother in this terrible strait.”
“Then go back to the town, and tell all who have dared to say my brother committed this crime that what they say is false, and that his father, his sister will prove his innocence. Go!”
“Yes, go!” said a shrill, harsh voice. “Louise, go to your room and let me speak to this man.”
“Aunt, you have heard?”