ally
beseeching him to rise up against her and the accusation against him,
rise up in a great storm of indignation; she was praying that he would
do that, expecting that he would, so firm were her convictions of his
nobility. She drew back a little, to give him room, as it were; her
hands fell upon his knee, and she leaned from him the better to see him,
her face aglow with her fierce hope, her big belief, while she waited
for that storm, that outraged denial, that tremendous vindication. And
while she waited, erect, hopeful, eager, he shrank in upon himself;
crumpled and wrinkled in upon himself until he looked weazened and
small.

"Let them prove it, let them," a whining mumble.

"They will not, Father." She was leaning toward him again, her face
quiet as the first frightened dawn of a grey morning; her voice was
beaten and sad, but she went on dauntlessly. "The letter was to Uncle
Bernique, Father. And Bruce Steering read it. And though it told him
that he was the owner of the Tigmores, he and Uncle Bernique will not
prove it." For a moment she paused, and then, with some new purpose on
her face, she began again, "There was an oath to make all sure that they
would not prove it. Listen, Father, these were the words of the oath:
'Swear, I by my love for Salome Madeira, you by your love for Piney's
young mother, that never, so help us God, shall one or the other of us
carry word of this thing to anyone, least of all to Crittenton Madeira
and his daughter, Salome!'"

"Ah-h-h!" The words of the oath seemed to bring Madeira his first brief
respite in a long torture. The girl shivered at such relief, then went
on resolutely:

"So now you see, Father, everything is safe. I have come to let you know
that everything is safe, that you need not be troubled, sleeping or
waking, any more about this thing. You may keep the Tigmores as long as
you will," the light of her eyes beat upon him like a rain of pure gold,
"you may be as rich as you like, Father. Mr. Steering is to leave here;
you need never be dispossessed during your lifetime. It is all safe and
sure. Uncle Bernique will not tell, Mr. Steering will not tell, Piney
will not tell, I shall make no sign." The tragic strength of her
endeavour to make him see that it was all with him; to leave it all to
him; if so be that the better part were to be chosen, to make him choose
it for himself; re-establish himself in so much as was possible for her
loving regard, was in the h