It was not
until Donald's trouble was touched upon that her mood steadied and she
lost her self-consciousness.
"Of course you must stand the trial," she said, and her voice rang
with the old assurance; "you must fight the whole matter out once for
all, and prove your innocence."
"Oh, the Court will prove that all right, but what does it matter? If
people were willing to damn me without hearing, to believe that I had
shot a man's eye out, then run away to escape the punishment--Bah!
it's sickening."
"But everybody doesn't believe it. The Doctor doesn't, nor Margery,
nor Cropsie Decker, nor I. Hundreds of your friends are ready to stand
by you. Don't listen to what anybody else says, but stay and fight it
out."
He looked up suddenly. "Did you ever get that letter I wrote you
before I sailed from 'Frisco?"
He hadn't meant to blurt it out like that, the question that had
tortured him so long, but her sympathy and friendliness had unnerved
him.
Leaning forward with all his soul in his eyes, he watched the color
mount steadily from her throat to her cheeks, then to her brow. He
heard her draw a sharp, quivering breath as one who walks on a
precipice, then she faced him steadily.
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