She drew hastily back, a heavy pall seeming to fall over her with my words.
"Don’t," she whispered, looking in terror about her. "Don’t! Sometimes I think the walls have ears, and that the very shadows listen."
"Ah," I returned; "then you hope to keep from the world what is known to the detectives?"
She did not answer.
"Miss Leavenworth," I went on, "I am afraid you do not comprehend your position. Try to look at the case for a moment in the light of an unprejudiced person; try to see for yourself the necessity of explaining"
"But I cannot explain," she murmured huskily.
"Cannot!"
I do not know whether it was the tone of my voice or the word itself, but that simple expression seemed to affect her like a blow.
"Oh!" she cried, shrinking back: "you do not, cannot doubt me, too? I thought that you—" and stopped. "I did not dream that I—" and stopped again. Suddenly her whole form quivered. "Oh, I see! You have mistrusted me from the first; the appearances against me have been too strong"; and she sank inert, lost in the depths of her shame and humiliation. "Ah, but now I am forsaken!" she murmured.
The appeal went to my heart. Starting forward, I exclaimed: "Miss Leavenworth, I am but a man; I cannot see you so distressed. Say that you are innocent, and I will believe you, without regard to appearances."
Springing erect, she towered upon me. "Can any one look in my face and accuse me of guilt?" Then, as I sadly shook my head, she hurriedly gasped: "You
