Then, and then only, he looked at her, a strange, fixed, hopeless, yet serene look, that she knew no criminal ever would or could have given.
“I was accused of having forged your brother's name.”
A faint cry escaped her; her lips grew white, and her eyes darkened and dilated.
“Accused. But wrongfully?”
His breath came and went in quick, sharp spasms.
“I could not prove that.”
“Not prove it? Why?”
“I could not.”
“But he—Philip—never believed you guilty?”
“I cannot tell. He may; he must.”