“But it is impossible that he is innocent, or will ever be thought so.”
“And I know that he is innocent.”
“Your judgment must tell you that this is only fancy.”
“My heart tells me that he is not guilty of this crime. My heart is still true to him; so, shall I decide against myself? Don't—don't stab me to death with words of Mortimer's guilt; it has no effect, and only gives me pain. I must wait—we must all wait, just wait. There is no harm in waiting, the truth will come out at last. But you will keep your promise?” she said, lifting her eyes to his face.
“Yes, I meant no harm to Mortimer in searching for this evidence; it was only to clear your brother.”
They had come to the station by now.
“Would you like to speak to Mr. Farrell?” Crane asked. “You are taking my word.”
“No, it is useless. I can do nothing but wait; that I can and will do.”
“Don't think me cruel,” Crane said, “but the wait will be so long.”
“It may be forever, but I will wait. And I thank you again for your—for your goodness to me. I'm sorry that I've given you trouble. If you can—if you can—make it easier for Mortimer—I know he'll feel it if you could make him think that you didn't altogether believe him as—dishonest—will you, for my sake?”