"No," she said again; then, with a deepening color, "I have spent all my money, that is the reason. Have you forgotten, Mr. Valchester, that all the money I had was the reward I received for capturing the outlaw chief?"
The soft eyes raised to his face saw a shadow fall over its handsome contour.
"I—I had been trying to forget all about him," he said, constrainedly. "What have they done with the fellow, Miss Meredith?"
"He is still confined in the county jail, I believe," she replied. "His counsel have been using every possible means to defer the new hearing of the case which was asked for and promised. Uncle Meredith says they are waiting for popular indignation to abate in hope of obtaining a more lenient verdict."
"Very likely," said Ronald Valchester, and then there was a constrained silence.
Jaquelina broke it herself in a voice that was slightly tremulous:
"I—am afraid I did not do right that night, Mr. Valchester. I did not think—as I have since done—that it was not a fair return for his kindness to me—for he was kind—kinder than any one knew."
The pretty penitence in her face touched him, but he did not speak.
"I have puzzled over it often and often," she went on, slowly and thoughtfully, "I have asked myself whether my private obligation to him should have outweighed the good of the country at large. I have never been able to satisfy myself. Tell me, Mr. Valchester, did I do right or not?"
"Miss Meredith," he answered, "many persons have asked me the same question, but I have never given my opinion to anyone."