Presently Mary arose from her kneeling position, and looked around the room until her glance fell on me, when she came toward me, and grasped both my hands, saying,
“Richard, I never accused you—I always felt that you were innocent, and always said so. You must forgive the others for my sake. My father and sister will bear me witness that I always defended you from the accusations of one who, it is now proved, sought with double, with inconceivable baseness, to divert suspicion from himself to another”—her voice trembled with scorn. “I never wanted to marry him,” she added, bursting into tears, “but they overpersuaded me.”
“Quiet yourself, sister,” said Eleanor, gently, arising and approaching us. “We have all wronged you, Richard—I fear beyond forgiveness. Alas! we can now see what a noble enemy you have been!”
In that moment I felt repaid for all I had suffered, and I said with joy,
“Never an enemy, Miss Argyll; and I forgive you, wholly.”
Then there was another stir; James had risen to slip away from the company, now so distasteful to him; but Mr. Burton again stood between him and egress; as he did so, he said,
“Mr. Argyll, it is for you to decide the fate of this miserable man. I have kept all my proceedings a secret from the public; I even allowed George Thorley to remain in Mexico, for I thought your family had already suffered enough, without loading it down with the infamy of your nephew. If you say that he shall go unpunished by the law, I shall abide by your wish; this matter shall be kept by the few who now know it. For your sakes, not for his, I would spare him the death which he deserves; but he must leave the country at once and for ever.”
“Let him go,” said the uncle, his back turned upon the murderer, toward whom he would not look. “Go, instantly and for ever. And remember, James Argyll, if I ever see your face again, if I ever hear of your being anywhere in the United States, I shall at once cause you to be arrested.”
“And I, the same,” added Mr. Burton. “God knows, if it were not for these young ladies, whose feelings are sacred to me, I would not let you off so easily.”
He opened the door, and James Argyll slunk out into the night, and away, none knew whither, branded, expatriated, and alone—away, without one look at the fair, beautiful girl who was so soon to have been his bride—away, from the home he had periled his soul to secure.