“My poor, dear child; my daughter that was to be, and please God will be yet,” the little lady said, caressing her with a mother’s pity and tenderness. Sitting beside her she told her of her visit to Paul and of his great desire to see her. “Go to him as soon as you can,” she said, “and comfort him. He is as innocent as you are.” “You believe it?” Clarice asked. “Believe it!” Mrs. Ralston repeated. “Why shouldn’t I believe it?” Clarice saw she was offended and hastened to say: “I did not mean intentional killing,—no one believes that,—but might it not have been accidental?” “That makes him a liar,” was Mrs. Ralston’s reply, while Clarice began to speak of Elithe, who had unquestionably exaggerated what she saw, not meaningly, perhaps, but because of her relations to Jack. This was the first Mrs. Ralston had heard of Elithe’s relations to Jack, and she listened with a good deal of interest to what Clarice told her. “I shall see the girl and talk with her,” she said, as she arose to go. Her parting with Clarice was not as loving as her greeting had been, for Clarice would not say she believed Paul wholly guiltless,—nor when she would go to see him. “I don’t know what I believe. I feel as if I were turned into stone with all that has come upon me so suddenly,” she said, and with rather a cool good-bye Mrs. Ralston left her. She was scarcely able to stand, and knew she ought to go home, but she must see Elithe first, and she ordered Tom to drive to Miss Hansford’s cottage. She found Miss Hansford having a cup of tea alone in the kitchen, and as it was past her lunch hour she took a cup with her, broaching at once the object of her visit. She had seen Paul and Clarice, and now she must see Elithe. Where was she? “In her room, where she has staid the most of the time since they took him. She neither eats, nor sleeps, nor talks, nor sees any one,” Miss Hansford told her. “She’ll see me; she must,” Mrs. Ralston said, in a tone Miss Hansford had never heard from her before. “They tell me she saw Paul shoot Mr. Percy. She is mistaken. He did not shoot him. If he is committed and there is a trial she will be the principal witness; her testimony will convict him, and it must not be.” “Would you have her swear to a lie?” Miss Hansford asked, and Mrs. Ralston replied: “Certainly not, but I would convince her of her mistake,—persuade her not to be influenced by prejudice because she thinks he shot her lover.” “Shot her lover! Great Heavens! What do you mean? Jack Percy was no more Elithe’s lover than he was mine,” Miss Hansford exclaimed, spilling her tea into her lap in her surprise. Before Mrs. Ralston could reply a voice called down the stairs, “Auntie, I’m coming down; or no, let Mrs. Ralston come up; then if any one else calls I needn’t see them.”