“No, I am convinced she is as true as steel. But while this cloud is over me I can say nothing—I can do nothing.”
“But it will soon be gone. Your trial will come in the fall. All the boarders say you can’t be convicted. You will be free.”
“Yes, free, with this stain of infamy upon me. Free to go West, to lose myself in the great new country, to forget my past—if I can. But free to marry her—never!”
“You mean that the real culprit must be found. There must be a positive verdict, not a negative one?”
“That’s it. The criminal must be run to earth. The money must be discovered, if possible.”
It was quite dark. Night blanketted the prairies, and night on the prairies is always cold. Miss Lester shivered. Silently her form nestled into the arms of Burton. A hand fell against his, and he shook as though struck by an electric current. She raised her face to his, her warm breath flooded his cheeks and eyes and stole into his nostrils and his lungs.
“Raymond dear,” she whispered. “You are carrying too much alone. You will break down. I can help you. Will you let me? Will you—do you trust me?”
And in a voice so low that she caught it by instinct rather than hearing he answered, “I do.”
“Then tell me—all.”
“All?”