Eleanor approached Lolla gently.
"We are not angry with you, Lolla," she said, kindly. "No, nor with
John. You love him, do you?"
Lolla gave no answer, but looked up into Eleanor's face with eyes that
spoke plainly enough.
"I thought so. Then you do not want him to go to prison? Try to make him
tell why he did this. If he will do that, perhaps he can go free, and
you and Peter, too. You wouldn't like to have to leave your people, and
not be able to travel along the road, and do all the things you are used
to doing, would you?
"Well, I am afraid that is what will happen to you, unless John will
tell all he knows. They will take you away, soon now, and you will go
down to the town and there you will be locked up, all three of you, and
you and John will not even see one another, for a long time--two or
three years, maybe, or even longer--"
Still Lolla could not speak. But she began to cry, quietly, but with a
display of suffering that moved Eleanor. After all, she felt Lolla was
little more than a girl, and, though she had done wrong, very wrong, she
had never had a proper chance to learn how to do what was right.
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