She walked quickly and softly to his bedside, and, speaking very kindly, said:
“Mr. Loker, do not be disturbed. I promise you that no harm shall come to you, and you shall have every comfort as long as you live, if you can prove to me that what you have just stated is true.”
Her tones were so gentle, and her eyes so mild and kind, that he was instantly reassured.
He fell back upon his pillow, panting for breath.
“Do you hear, Maria? She says—no harm shall—come. I’ve dreamed—of her for weeks—as she lay there sleeping—so innocent—and—beautiful—while—we stole her treasures.”
“Hush, John, please,” whispered his wife, greatly distressed.
“No, Maria; I want to tell her all about it now. It is Miss Dalton, isn’t it?” and he scanned her face eagerly, as if he feared he might possibly have made a mistake.
“Yes, I am Miss Dalton; and, if you are able, I want you to tell me all about the night of which you speak,” Editha answered.
“I’d have been glad to confess it then, rather than let that fine young fellow go to prison,” he continued, with a deep sigh; “but Tom declared he’d kill me if I peached, and so I—had to hold my tongue.”
He paused for breath, and Mr. Loker, turning beseechingly to Editha, said: