“It is terrible,” murmured Hellier.
“Terrible—oh, you cannot think!—and now you know why it can never be.”
“If his innocence were proved?” asked he.
“Ah, then—,” she replied.
Hellier took her hand and held it in both of his.
“Listen to me,” he said. “I have seen much of life and men, I do not say it to please you or comfort you, but the face you have shown me is a face incapable of—that. If I could stake my life, and if it were possible for me to stake it upon your father’s innocence, I would do so. I am a member of the English Bar; after what you have told me of the barrier between us, a barrier which is no barrier to me, I will do all that in me lies to remove it. Nothing may come of my efforts, everything may. When a man works from love he goes doubly armed. Tell me, my friend, where I can learn the details of your trouble, not from your lips, for that would be too painful—have you no papers—”
“I have the dossier of the case,” replied Mademoiselle Lefarge. “I will place it in your hands; I have belief in you. When I first saw you, something drew me towards you, perhaps it was the spirit of my father—for I feel that he is no more—perhaps it was his spirit pointing out to me his avenger, perhaps—” She paused.
“Yes,” said Hellier.
“Perhaps,” she said, “it was an instinct that told me that some day—”
“Yes.”