ear up. Now we want all our
courage, now more than ever.'

'Oh, I can't bear it,' he moaned.

She bent down and kissed him tenderly.

'Be brave, my dearest, be brave for my sake.'

But he sobbed uncontrollably. It was a horribly painful sight. Dick took
him by the arm and led him away. Lucy turned to Alec, who was standing
where first he had stopped.

'I want to ask you a question. Will you answer me quite truthfully,
whatever the pain you think it will cause me?'

'I will.'

'You followed the trial from the beginning, you know all the details of
it. Do _you_ think my father is guilty?'

'What can it matter what I think?'

'I beg you to tell me.'

Alec hesitated for a moment. His voice was very low.

'If I had been on the jury I'm afraid I should have had no alternative
but to decide as they did.'

Lucy bent her head, and heavy tears rolled down her cheeks.

VII

Next morning Lucy received a note from Alec MacKenzie, asking if he
might see her that day; he suggested calling upon her early in the
afternoon and expressed the hope that he might find her alone. She sat
in the library at Lady Kelsey's and waited for him. She held a book in
her hands, but she could not read. And presently she began to weep. Ever
since the dreadful news had reached her, Lucy had done her utmost to
preserve her self-control, and all night she had lain with clenched
hands to prevent herself from giving way. For George's sake and for her
father's, she felt that she must keep her strength. But now the strain
was too great for her; she was alone; the tears began to flow
helplessly, and she made no effort to restrain them.

She had been allowed to see her father. Lucy and George had gone to the
prison, and she recalled now the details of the brief interview. The
whole thing was horrible. She felt that her heart would break.

In the night indignation had seized Lucy. After reading accounts of the
case in half a dozen papers she could not doubt that her father was
justly condemned, and she was horrified at the baseness of the crime.
His letters to the poor woman he had robbed, were read in court, and
Lucy flushed as she thought of them. They were a tissue of lies,
hypocritical and shameless. Lucy remembered the question she had put to
Alec and his answer.

But neither the newspapers nor Alec's words were needed to convince her
of her father's guilt; in the very depths of her being, notwithstanding
the passion with which