“It’s a pity,” said the girl, dryly. “I should have liked to see it. I’ve got my own idea about the matter. Are you sure she was very fond of them?”
“She lived only for them,” said Mr. Barrett, in a rapt voice.
“Exactly. I don’t believe they are drowned at all,” said Miss Lindsay, suddenly. “I believe you have had all this terrible anguish for nothing. It’s too cruel.”
Mr. Barrett stared at her in anxious amazement.
“I see it all now,” continued the girl. “Their Aunt Charlotte was devoted to them. She always had the fear that some day you would return and claim them, and to prevent that she invented the story of their death.”
“Charlotte is the most truthful woman that ever breathed,” said the distressed Mr. Barrett.
Miss Lindsay shook her head. “You are like all other honourable, truthful people,” she said, looking at him gravely. “You can’t imagine anybody else telling a falsehood. I don’t believe you could tell one if you tried.”
Mr. Barrett gazed about him with the despairing look of a drowning mariner.
“I’m certain I’m right,” continued the girl. “I can see Charlotte exulting in her wickedness. Why!”
“What’s the matter?” inquired Mr. Barrett, greatly worried.