As he spoke she sank forward, and would have fallen if her father had not caught her in his arms and so saved her. Then he looked at Tom for the first time since he had come into the magistrate’s office.
“If she’s killed, it’s thy doings, Thomas Granger,” said he, in a low, constrained voice. He stood grimly holding her, but all around him was confusion and tumult. Mr. Morrow pushed his chair back hastily and arose and Dr. Winterapple ran to her.
“Let her lie on the floor!” he cried, “she’s fainted! Some water, quick!”
Her father laid her down upon the floor and Dr. Winterapple, snatching up a pitcher of water that sat upon the table, began sprinkling her face and bathing her temples. Mrs. Bond kneeled beside her, chafing and slapping her hands.
Elihu Penrose sat down in his chair again, staring at Patty with the same expressionless look that he had worn all along. After a while her bosom rose with a deep, convulsive sigh and she partially unclosed her eyes, moving her head from side to side. They lifted her up and sat her in a chair, and Mrs. Bond fanned her. Then Tom turned to the magistrate.
“Mr. Morrow,” said he, “for the love of heaven, don’t torture her any more; I’ll tell everything!”
“Take care,” said Mr. Morrow, warningly; “I tell you plainly that what you say will be taken in evidence against you. Your case is dark enough—don’t make it any blacker.”
“I don’t care how black the case is against me! I’d rather have anything happen to me than have you make that poor girl convict me out of her own mouth! I’ve kept my lips shut too long already.”
“I have only to say, take care what you say!” said the magistrate again.
“I’ll take care! You asked her if there was any promise of marriage between us before I sailed away on this last cruise. There was a promise of marriage! I’ll tell you farther—”