“As God is my judge, papa, you accuse me falsely!” she answered, lifting her white hand solemnly to heaven, while her beautiful face flushed a vivid burning scarlet. “You deny that you were at Delaney House?” he asked. “I cannot answer that question, papa; but I _can_ deny, and I do deny, your other accusation.” “Your word does not signify much in this case,” he said. “I already have the proofs that you stayed, during the three months of your absence, at Delaney House.” The beautiful blush seemed to burn deeper on the fair young face. “Papa, who is my accuser?” she inquired, in wonder. “You shall know by and by,” he answered. “I am going to ask you some questions now. Mind that you answer them truly. There is no longer any need to keep back the answer to anything I may ask you. All is known.” “All?” she echoed, faintly, and with palpable wonder. “Yes, all,” he replied. “And first you were at Delaney House, during the whole three months of your absence. It is too late to deny it. You must confess all.” “But my oath,” she said, looking at him with wide, questioning eyes. “Is of no avail, since I have found out the truth without your agency,” he replied. “The secret is a secret no longer. You may answer freely all that I ask you.” She looked at him dubiously with those beautiful eyes that seemed to mirror her soul’s purity. “I should be glad to answer you, papa, if I thought it were quite right,” she said. “You can take your papa’s word for that,” interposed Mrs. Rodney, rather peevishly. “He has never deceived you in anything, has he, Aline?” “No, mamma,” she replied. “Then tell him what he asks you,” said her mother. Aline turned her eyes back to the pale, stern face of her father. “Papa, I admit that I was at Delaney House those three months,” she said, simply. “And you were dangerously wounded in the beginning of your stay there,” he said. “Don’t deny that either, Aline. You bear the scar on your bosom in witness of the fact.” “I admit the wound,” she replied, in the same gentle, obedient way as before. “I must now require you to tell me how you received it,” said Mr. Rodney, watching her closely. She started, and looked earnestly at him. “You said that you knew all, papa,” she replied, with a touch of vague reproach in her tone. He could not conceal the embarrassment her words caused him. His eyelids fell and he stood silent a moment gazing down at the floor. “You said that you knew all, papa,” Aline repeated, reproachfully. “I know the most and worst,” he replied, looking up at her. “There are some trifling details with which I am unacquainted. I depend on you to make me acquainted with them.” “But, papa--” she said, and paused, tremblingly. “Well?” he said. “You know, papa, it would be wrong for me to tell you anything about that fatal absence of mine. It would be breaking my oath of silence,” she replied. He stifled an impatient exclamation between his mustached lips.