Cynthia stood up.
"Thank you," she said, "that is what I wanted to know."
"But—" cried Miss Lucretia, in amazement and apprehension, "but what are you going to do?"
"I am going to Coniston," said Cynthia, "to ask him if those things are true."
"To ask him!"
"Yes. If he tells me they are true, then I shall believe them."
"If he tells you?" Miss Lucretia gasped. Here was a courage of which she had not reckoned. "Do you think he will tell you?"
"He will tell me, and I shall believe him, Miss Lucretia."
"You are a remarkable girl, Cynthia," said Miss Lucretia, involuntarily. Then she paused for a moment. "Suppose he tells you they are true? You surely can't live with him again, Cynthia."
"Do you suppose I am going to desert him, Miss Lucretia?" she asked. "He loves me, and—and I love him." This was the first time her voice had faltered. "He kept my father from want and poverty, and he has brought me up as a daughter. If his life has been as you say, I shall make my own living!"