He waited a moment, then saw that still no glimmer of his meaning crossed her mind.
“Has it never occurred to you that Harry Garlett is believed to have fallen in love with you before his wife died?”
“No one can believe that.” She spoke with entire conviction. “He hardly knew me, and admits that he did not even like me. He would far rather have had some one at the factory quite unconnected with his private life. Why, he almost always turned over to Mr. Dodson any letters to which answers had to be dictated!”
“I’m not telling you what I believe—but what other people believe,” he said in a low voice, and suddenly the full meaning of what his words implied became clear to her.
“I can’t bear it,” she whispered, “oh, Uncle Jock, I can’t bear it!”
As even the best and the kindest of human beings will feel under stress of circumstances, Dr. Maclean gathered a cruel courage from seeing her distress.
“It would be very wrong to conceal from you what you are up against, my dear. As far as the average man and woman can see, Harry Garlett was the only human being in the world who could be affected in the smallest degree by his wife’s death. The question of money is ruled out—there only remains love.”
She turned on him in a flash. “Then you ought to admit his absolute innocence, for you know as well as I do that he was very much vexed with me for having written the letter that brought him back. It took him some time,” she hesitated, “something like a month, before we became even on friendly terms together. After that,” there came a radiant look into her face, “after that I admit he came to love me, though even then——”
She stopped abruptly and covered her face with her hands.
He looked at her eagerly. Was it possible that she was going to reveal some fact hitherto concealed by her that might throw light on the mystery?