"You say I've never done anything for your father, Deirdre. I want to do something for him now. Come back and listen to me for a moment."
She led the girl back to the chair, and forced her into it.
"But they'll be coming for me soon," Deirdre cried fretfully, looking back at the door.
She hardly heard what Mrs. Cameron was saying for awhile. Her tired, bright eyes wandered restlessly up and down the room. The pain in her head prevented her thinking.
"Deirdre darling," Mrs. Cameron said, her voice trembling, "there's not a man or woman in the country would not say you were justified. And no woman is better able to understand than I am. I'm not afraid for you ... and there's no one I'd rather have for Davey's wife than you. You were willing to sacrifice yourself. But when treachery had been proved against you, there was that within you would not let evil come near you."
"Do you mean ... you'd be satisfied for Davey to have me!" Deirdre asked.
"Yes."
Mrs. Cameron's eyes were on hers.
"You'd not be throwing it up at me that I ... that I did this?" Deirdre inquired. "And that father—"
"No." Mrs. Cameron's voice was very low. "Because if I had been served as your father was—I'd have been a convict too."