I did not answer. With his eyes fixed upon my face he waited. I laid my hand upon his arm.
"Father, in the church, did you see his face? Did you hear what he was saying?"
He did not shrink from me. He looked into my white, eager face without any sign of fear or displeasure.
"Was it--was it--you to whom he spoke?" I cried.
"I cannot answer you that question, Kate," he said.
I grasped his hand feverishly. There was a red livid mark afterwards where my nails had dug into his wrist.
"Father, would you have me go mad?" I moaned. "You know that man. You knew who he was! You knew what he wanted--at the Yellow House."
"In the church I could have touched--could have touched him, he was so near to me--there was a terrible light in his face, his eyes were flaming upon you. He was like a man who suddenly understands. He called 'Judas,' and he pointed--at you."
"He was mad," my father answered, with a terrible calmness. "Every one could see that he was mad."
"Mad!" I caught at the thought. I repeated the word to myself, and forced my recollection backwards with a little shudder to those few horrible moments. After all was there any hope that this might be the interpretation? My father's voice broke in upon my thoughts.
"I do not wish to harp upon what must be a terribly painful subject to you, Kate. I only want your promise, you must take my word for everything else."
I looked at him long and steadily. If the faces of men are in any way an index to their lives, my father's should rank high--high indeed. His countenance was absolutely unruffled. There was not a single shadow of fear there, or passion of any sort; only a delicate thoughtfulness tempered with that quiet dignity which seemed almost an inseparable characteristic of his. I took his hands in mine and clasped them fervently.
"Father," I cried, "give me your whole confidence. I will promise all that you desire, only let me know everything. I have thought sometimes--terrible thoughts--I cannot help them. They torment me now--they will torment me always. I know so much--tell me a little more. My lips shall be sealed. I mean it! Only----"
He raised his hand softly, but the words died upon my lips.
"I have nothing to tell you, child," he said, quietly. "Put that thought away from you forever. The burden which I bear is upon my own shoulders only. God forbid that even the shadow of it should darken your young life."