would have relieved your sorrow. I charged you with being his
murderer, but no one believed me. Aunt Sarah did you justice. She
told every one you loved the boy, and that he loved you,—that it
was an accident. After Will confessed that he loaded the gun,
she repeated this to every one. You were pitied, and I, who so
idolized the boy, was looked on with suspicion. Even Aunt Sarah told
me that I had ruined Will by indulgence, or he would never have
touched the gun contrary to your orders. I hated her for saying it,
but I knew that what she said was true.