“Troubles! What troubles you ever had? I guess there ain’t a girl in town that’s had less trouble than you have!”
“Of course, I didn’t mean it that way, papa; I mean only the little things, little mistakes and slips I’ve made that you and mamma have always been kind about. No girl was ever treated as kindly as you have treated me. And I mean always to be perfectly frank with you; and I’m going to be now.”
“Well,” he said impatiently.
She felt that her contemplated explanation had been well chosen, but she must be adroit, risking no word that might spoil the effect of her disclosure.
She knelt beside him and began in a tone that was eloquent of humility, yet with a confidence that she hoped would not be lost upon him.
“You see, papa, when you brought me home with you, and you and mamma began caring for me, I was just a poor little waif, ready for an orphan asylum. My father and mother would never have been able to do anything for me if they had lived; and if it hadn’t been for you and mamma, I’d never have known any of the things I’ve learned through you. I might have been a dining-room girl right now in some cheap hotel if you hadn’t opened your doors and your hearts to me. And that has made me appreciate my blessings—all the comforts and luxuries you have given me. And it has made me feel, more than you may imagine, for people not so lucky as I am—the under dog that gets kicked by everybody. And even when people are wicked and do evil things, I think we ought to think kindly of them and help them when we can. I know you and mamma always practiced that. And I’ve tried to; I really have!”
She lifted her eyes and there were tears in them, that seemed to be born of a deep compassion, a yearning toward all the poor and erring among mankind. Farley was not unmoved by this demonstration; he shifted his legs uneasily under the light pressure of her arms. Her spell upon him had never been more complete; she felt that she might risk much in the mood to which she had brought him.
“And you know, papa, I have thought a great deal about my brother—who drifted away with the flood. I haven’t seen him since father and mother died. Tom is much older than I am, and the poor boy never had any chance. I hadn’t even heard of him since you brought me away until the other day. And he’s in trouble, very deep, serious trouble, papa; he’s been arrested—I’m sure not for anything he really did; but being poor and without friends it was perfectly natural for him to ask me to help him. I think you will agree to that. And he sent his lawyer to ask me for money to use in defending him. I meant to tell you all about it when you were well; I felt sure I was doing right and that you’d be glad to have me help him; and it’s all so horrible—”
She felt his form grow rigid, felt his hands roughly push her away, as he blurted hoarsely:—
“Blackmail! My God, it’s blackmail—or else you’re lyin’ to me!”