“She is guiltless—guiltless of every thing, but of having trusted a villain!—Yet, had it not been for those that were worse than I am—yes, worse than I am, though I am bad indeed—this misery had not befallen.”
“And my sister’s child—does it live?” said Jeanie.
“No; it was murdered—the new-born infant was barbarously murdered,” he uttered in a low, yet stern and sustained voice.—“but,” he added hastily, “not by her knowledge or consent.”
“Then, why cannot the guilty be brought to justice, and the innocent freed?”
“Torment me not with questions which can serve no purpose,” he sternly replied—“The deed was done by those who are far enough from pursuit, and safe enough from discovery!—No one can save Effie but yourself.”
“Woe’s me! how is it in my power?” asked Jeanie, in despondency.
“Hearken to me!—You have sense—you can apprehend my meaning—I will trust you. Your sister is innocent of the crime charged against her—”
“Thank God for that!” said Jeanie.
“Be still and hearken!—The person who assisted her in her illness murdered the child; but it was without the mother’s knowledge or consent—She is therefore guiltless, as guiltless as the unhappy innocent, that but gasped a few minutes in this unhappy world—the better was its hap, to be so soon at rest. She is innocent as that infant, and yet she must die—it is impossible to clear her of the law!”
“Cannot the wretches be discovered, and given up to punishment?” said Jeanie.