“They from the Church. I didn’t mean to do it, but when I was on my feet something forced it out of me. I knew what they would do, but I was ready to die, and I hoped I could awaken some of them.”
“But no one shall hurt you.”
“Don’t tempt me to stay any longer, dear, even if they would let me. Oh, you don’t know, you don’t know—and that Devil’s drumming over there to madden me as on that other night. But it’s just—my God, how just!”
“Come away, then. Ruel will find your horse, and we’ll ride home.”
“It’s too late—don’t ask me to leave my hell now. It would only follow me. It was this way that night—the night before—the beating got into my blood and hammered on my brain till I didn’t know. Prudence, I must tell you—everything—”
He glanced at Follett appealingly, as he had looked at the others when he left the platform that day, beseeching some expression of friendliness.
“Yes, I must tell you—everything.” But his face lighted as Follett interrupted him.
“You tell her,” said Follett, doggedly, “how you saved her that day and kept her like your own and brought her up to be a good woman—that’s what you tell her.” The gratitude in the little man’s eyes had grown with each word.
“Yes, yes, dear, I have loved you like my own little child, but your father and mother were killed here that day—and I found you and loved you—such a dear, forlorn little girl—will you hate me now?” he broke off anxiously. She had both his hands in her own.
“But why, how could I hate you? You are my dear little sorry father—all I’ve known. I shall always love you.”