“I really think?” she cried with her eyes flashing. “Am I to lose all faith and confidence in you? I tell you what you say is impossible.”
Her words, her manner, sent flashes of hope through the darkness that haunted Leslie’s spirit, and without a word he turned and walked hurriedly down with her toward the town till they reached the seat in the sheltered niche, where he had had that memorable conversation with Aunt Marguerite.
There he paused, and pointed to the seat.
“She sat there with me,” he said bitterly, “and poured her poison into my ears till under a smiling face I felt half mad. I have tried so hard to free myself from their effect, but it has been hard—so hard. And last night—”
“You saw something which shook your confidence in Louise for the moment, but that is all gone now.”
“I think—I—”
“I vouch for my friend’s truth,” said Madelaine proudly. “I tell you that you have been deceived.”
Leslie was ghastly pale, and the injury he had received and the mental agony of the past night made him look ten years older, as he drew in a catching breath, and then said hastily—
“Come on, and let us find out the truth.”