"Whisper it, Mary," said Paul, still holding her to his heart.
"Paul, you are innocent."
"Yes," he said. "I am innocent. I fought for my life as hard as I could; but law is not justice, Mary. It's a huge legal machine."
"And Paul," she whispered, "you have believed all along that someone else was guilty. You have believed it was your mother."
She felt him shudder as she spoke the words.
"I believed it, too. It came to me one day that you were trying to shield her, and that was why you have allowed yourself to be here. You could have cleared yourself else, couldn't you?"
She knew by the deep sigh that escaped him how her words moved him.
"On the day when my father made that confession," she went on, "I found out where your mother was, and went to see her. I had made up my mind to obtain a confession of guilt from her. Oh, Paul, it's terribly hard to tell you this, and I know that you'll hardly be able to forgive me; but it was all for you! You believe that, don't you?"
"Go on, Mary. Tell me what it is."
"I went back to Brunford with her. You see she knew who I was by this time, and I think she liked me. She said she was ill and was afraid to stay in Manchester any longer, and she asked me to go back to Brunford with her."