He was not quite himself, and I trembled every moment for the effect Rena might have upon him. But he was very quiet as she stroked his hair and let her fingers move gently across his forehead.
“You will leave me with him a while,” she said to me. “It will not take long and I cannot get my courage up again. I’ll tell you and everybody when it is over why I came.”
The look in her eyes conquered me; and going out, I closed the door and left her alone with Rex. Rena had fully made up her mind to confess her fault and had gone over and over with what she meant to say, until it seemed very easy. But now that the time had come, and she was with him face to face, her wits left her and she was dumb, but kept on rubbing Rex’s head and hands and creating little electric thrills which he felt in every nerve. At last when she knew that she must speak she drew her hands away and sinking upon her knees covered her face and burst into a paroxysm of sobbing.
“Oh, what is it?” Rex asked, in alarm.
“Mr. Travers,” she began at last, lifting up her face, down which the tears were pouring, “I have come to tell you something dreadful and ask your forgiveness. I am not what you think I am, I am the girl Sandy McPherson saw on the beach and the one mentioned in his will. My name is Irene it is true, but I am always called Rena. It has been a wretched mistake, a deception, a lie from the beginning.”
She stopped, startled by the expression of his face. He understood perfectly what she had said and the shock was very great, taking away the little strength she had given him. For a moment he neither spoke, nor stirred, but looked at her with an eager, questioning gaze, then said:
“Tell me while I can understand. Things are going from me again.”
He seemed to feel that the films of delirium were weaving their webs across his brain, which would soon be shrouded in darkness, and wished her to hurry while his sense remained.
“It was this way,” Rena began, checking her sobs so as to speak more distinctly. “I had never heard of Sandy McPherson, nor of you, until Colin sent me a copy of the will which astonished me and at first made me very angry with both Sandy and you, although I knew you were no more to blame than I was. I did not like the idea of being disposed of in that way and made over to some one I had never seen just for money. I had, however, a curiosity to see you, and when I heard you were here and saw Mrs. Parks’ advertisement for boarders, I planned to come to Oakfield and bring Irene, and let you and the rest find out which was which. If you or anybody had asked I meant to tell, but you didn’t. No one did, and I went on and on, acting a lie. Tom called it that and tried to stop me, but I would not be stopped, and I am so sorry. Oh, Mr. Travers, you don’t know how sorry.”
Here she broke down entirely and cried like a child. Then dashing away her tears she went on with her story very rapidly, if not very connectedly, taking all the blame herself and exonerating Irene and Tom, the latter of whom had tried to dissuade her from it.