"You don't know that it has anything to do with you, do you?"
"No; but I am so apprehensive that I imagine everything."
"But the past is dead, Eleanor dear. To have it recalled is of course painful, but why should you dread it?"
Mrs. Gorham did not answer at once, and the girl was amazed to witness the conflict of emotion which her face expressed. At last Eleanor raised her eyes.
"The past is not wholly dead," she said, in a low voice. "That is the unfortunate part. There is one event which happened back there in Colorado, right after Carina was killed, which has never—can never be explained. It is the only detail of that awful tragedy which I have not told your father, and I could not even tell you."
"Can't you tell me enough so I can really help you, Eleanor?"
"No, not even as much as that. The appearances were all against me. I know that nothing occurred of which I need feel ashamed, but the circumstantial evidence is so strong that it would be beyond human possibility to expect any one, even one as generous as your father, to accept my unsupported statement."
"Has this to do with your first husband?"
"I fear that if he has come in possession of the facts he may intend to use them against me."
"Then the only thing for you to do is to see father at once, and to tell him everything yourself before that horrid man has the opportunity. There is nothing, Eleanor, which you could tell him which he would not accept exactly as you stated. Why, of course there isn't."