That you could no more believe him capable
of this abominable act than you could believe it of my father."
"I will--tell--the judge," stammered the unhappy mother. "Judge,"
she briefly declared, as she rose with the help of her daughter's
arm, "my mind agrees with yours in this matter. What you think, I
think." And that was all she could say.
As she fell again into her seat, the judge turned to Reuther:
"Leave your mother for a little while," he urged with that rare
gentleness he always showed her. "Let her rest here a few minutes
longer, alone with me."
"Yes, Reuther," murmured Deborah, seeing no way of avoiding this
inevitable interview. "I am feeling better every minute. I will
come soon."
The young girl's eye faltered from one to the other, then settled,
with a strange and imploring look upon her mother. Had her clear
intelligence pierced at last to the core of that mother's misery?
Had she seen what Deborah would have spared her at the cost of her
own life? It would seem so, for when the mother, with great
effort, began some conciliatory speech, the young girl smiled with
a certain sad patience, and, turning towards Judge Ostrander, said
as she softly withdrew:
"You have been very kind to allow me to mention a name and discuss
a subject you have expressly forbidden. I want to show my
gratitude, Judge Ostrander, by never referring to it again without
your permission. That you know my mind,"--here her head rose with
a sort of lofty pride which lent a dazzling quality to her usually
quiet beauty,--"and that I know yours, is quite enough for me.
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