“Did you ever speak a word of truth to me?” asked Edith, indignantly.
Miss Fortescue was silent.
“At any rate, it is of no consequence now,” said Edith. “Sir Lionel is nothing to me; for he must look with horror on one whom he believes to be the slayer of his son.”
“Oh, Miss Dalton!” burst forth Miss Fortescue, “do not despair; he will be found yet.”
“Found! He has been found. Did you not hear?”
“Oh, I don't mean that. I do not believe that it was him. I believe that he is alive. This is all a mistake. I will search for him. I do not believe that this is him. I believe he is alive. Oh, Miss Dalton, if I could only do this for you, I should be willing to die. But I will try; I know how to get on his track; I know where to go; I must hear of him, if he is alive. Try to have hope; do not despair.”
Edith shook her head mournfully.
Miss Fortescue tried still further to lessen Edith's despair, and assured her that she had hopes herself of finding him before it was too late, but her words produced no effect.
“I do not ask you to forgive me,” said Miss Fortescue; “that would be almost insolence; but I entreat you to believe that I will devote myself to you, and that you have one whose only purpose in life now is to save you from this fearful fate. Thus far you have known me only as a speaker of lies; but remember, I pray you, what my position was. I was playing a part—as Mrs. Mowbray—as Lieutenant Dudleigh—as Barber the lawyer—”
“Barber!” exclaimed Edith. “What! Barber too?”