“Need I go on? You know the truth. You know that I am the rightful heir of this whole place. Sycamore Ridge is mine, and not your mother’s.” “Yes.” The word was scarce audible. Poor Maida felt as if the last blow had fallen. She had seared her conscience, defied her sense of honor, crucified her very soul to keep this dreadful secret from her parents for their own sake, and now all her efforts were of no avail! Curtis Keefe knew that the great estate was legally his, and now her dear parents would be turned out, homeless, penniless and broken down by sorrow and grief. Even though he might allow them to stay there, they wouldn’t, she knew, consent to any such arrangement. She lifted a blanched, strained face to his, as she said: “What—what are you going to do?” “Just what you say,” Keefe replied, drawing closer to her side. “It’s all up to you, Maida dear. Don’t look offended; surely you know I love you—surely you know my one great desire is to make you my wife. Give your consent; say you will be mine, and rest assured, dearest, there will be no trouble about the ‘heirship.’ If you will marry me, I will promise never to divulge the secret so long as either of your parents live. They may keep this place, and, besides that, darling, I will guarantee to get your father a full pardon. I—well, I’m not speaking of it yet—but I’ll tell you that there is a possibility of my running for governor myself, since young Sam is voluntarily out of it. But, in any case, I have influence enough in certain quarters—influence increased by knowledge that I have gleaned here and there among the late Mr. Appleby’s papers—to secure a full and free pardon for your father. Now, Maida, girl, even if you don’t love me very much yet, can’t you say yes, in view of what I offer you?” “How can you torture me so? Surely you know that I am engaged to Mr. Allen.” “I didn’t know it was a positive engagement—but, anyway,” his voice grew hard, “it seems to me that any one so solicitous for her parents’ welfare and happiness as you have shown yourself, will not hesitate at a step which means so much more than others you have taken.” “Oh, I don’t know what to do—what to say—let me think.” “Yes, dear, think all you like. Take it quietly now. Remember that a decision in my favor means also a calm, peaceful and happy life insured to your parents. Refusal means a broken, shattered life, a precarious existence, and never a happy day for them again. Can you hesitate? I’m not so very unpresentable as a husband. You may not love me now, but you will! I’ll be so good to you that you can’t help it. Nor do I mean to win your heart only by what I shall do for you. For, Maida dearest, love begets love, and you will find yourself slowly perhaps, but surely, giving me your heart. And we will be so happy! Is it yes, my darling?” The girl stared at him, her big brown eyes full of agony. “You forget something,” she said, slowly. “I am a murderess!”