“Who—who are you?” she gasped.
Very gently the Little Captain put an arm about her and pushed her into a chair.
“Don’t be alarmed, Miss Weeks,” she said. “We’ve brought you some very good news. Do you feel strong enough to hear it?”
“Yes, oh, yes!” said the little old lady, still staring at Allen.
It was then that the young lawyer came forward. Betty introduced him very simply and he explained to Isabella Weeks as gently as he could what had transpired within the last few weeks.
During the greater part of the recital she sat like one dazed and who finds it hard to comprehend. Only once did she show any real emotion, and that was when Allen spoke of James Barton’s innocence.
“Innocent!” she cried, a great pride flashing up in her eyes. “You need not tell me that. I was not the one who doubted his innocence. But before I could tell him that he had gone, thinking himself disgraced. But go on,” she added, gently. “I did not mean to interrupt.”
So Allen finished his story, telling of her brother’s death and the will which he had made in her favor. She seemed more startled at first by the mention of the money which was now hers than she was delighted.
“What would I do with all that money?” she cried, almost with dismay. “I could not use it all.”
“But you could use some of it,” said Betty, adding, slyly: “Wouldn’t it be rather nice for instance to have a pretty home with roses over the door and a maid or two to wait upon you and never another worry as long as you live?”