“And you feel better for telling me this, do you not?”
“Yes; I have been carrying on a wearisome struggle these last few weeks. You will preserve my confidence. There is no one else to whom I talk; no one who knows me. You, my dear innocent lamb,” and he suddenly became loverlike and tender, “are the only being in the world that understands me.”
“You will find my father for me?” she said softly.
“If it is a possible thing; there is no news yet.”
“And when he comes you will try to clear him? Yet stay, Stanton; can you do nothing in his absence?”
“I scarcely think so.”
“Is there no one who knows? What about Mammy Juniper and MacDaly, who talk so strangely about your father? You are silent. Remember, Stanton, I too have a father. Tell me, would you clear him to-morrow if you could, though at the expense of disgracing your own parent?”
“Yes, I would,” he said.
“That is enough,” she said in a low, intense voice. “Have no more scruples about marrying me. I take the responsibility.”
She gave him her hand like a princess, and leaving him standing, a lonely figure in the half-lighted room, went toward the hall to Mammy Juniper, who was waiting for her.