Part 52 (1/2)
”I don't think it matters much,” he answered, despondently; ”things are as bad as they can be, I suppose.”
He took it for granted that she knew everything; but he was possessed of no shame, no diffidence, no reserve; he was innocent, and her eyes had a.s.sured him that she knew it. As they pa.s.sed through the door it creaked again on its dry hinges. Before she had laughed at the weird complaining; now it sounded like a moan of misery. Outside the village street was deserted; there was no one to listen.
”What is this dreadful thing all about?” and she laid her hand on his arm in a gesture of amity, of a.s.sociation. Her touch thrilled him; she had never gone that length in friendly demonstration before. He marveled at her generous faith. All but dishonored, the small, strong hand lifted him to a pedestal-her eyes deified him.
”A thousand dollars was stolen from the bank, and I am accused of taking it,” he answered, bitterly.
”You didn't, did you? I know you didn't, but I want to hear you say so.”
He looked full into the girl's eye, and answered with deliberate earnestness, ”I did not steal the money.”
”Some one took it?”
”Yes.”
”And you know who it was?”
”I do not.”
”But you suspect some one?”
He did not answer.
”Did you put the money back?”
He nodded his head.
”To protect somebody's good name?”
”Because it had been in my charge. I can't talk about it,” he broke in, vehemently; ”all I can say is, that I am innocent. If you believe that I don't care what they do. They'll be able to prove by circ.u.mstantial evidence that I took it,” he added, bitterly, ”and nothing that I can say will make any difference. My mother won't believe me guilty, and, thank G.o.d, you don't; and I am not; G.o.d knows I am not. Beyond that I will say nothing; it is useless--worse than useless; it would be criminal--would only cast suspicion on others, perhaps innocent. I don't know what they'll do about it; the money has been repaid. They may arrest me as a felon--at any rate I shall be forced to leave the bank and go away. It won't make much difference.--I am as I was before, an honest man, and I shall find other openings. It's not half so hard as I thought it would be; I feared perhaps that you--”
She stopped him with an imploring gesture.
”Let me finish,” he said. ”I must go back to the office. I thought that you might believe me a thief, and that would have been too much.”
”You cared for my poor opinion?” she asked. The quiver in her voice caused him to look into her face; he saw the gray eyes shrouded in tears. He was a queer thief, trembling with joy because of his sin.
”Yes, I care,” he answered; ”and it seemed all so dark before you brought the sunlight in with you; now I'm glad that they've accused me; somebody else might have suffered and had no one to believe in him. But I must go back to--my prison it seems like now--when I leave you;” this with a weary attempt at brave mockery.
Allis laid a detaining hand on his arm, the small gloved hand that had guided Lauzanne to victory. ”If anything happens, if you are going away--I think you are right to go if they distrust you--you will see me before you leave, won't you?”
”Will you care to see me if I stand branded as a thief?” The word came very hard, but in his acridity he felt like not sparing himself; he wanted to get accustomed to the full obloquy.
”Promise me to come to Ringwood before going away,” she answered.
”Yes, I will; and I thank you. No matter how dark the shadow may make my life your kindness will be a hope light. No man is utterly lost when a good woman believes in him.”
The creaking bank door wailed tremulously, irritably; somebody was pus.h.i.+ng it open from the inside. With a whine of remonstrance it swung wider, and Crane stepped out on the sidewalk. He stared in astonishment at Mortimer and Allis, his brow wrinkled in anger. Only for an instant; the forehead smoothed back into its normal placidity and his voice, well in hand, said, in even tones: ”Good afternoon, Miss Porter. Are you going back to Ringwood?” and he nodded toward Allis's buggy.
”Yes, I am. I'm going now. Good day, Mr. Mortimer,” and she held out her hand.