"I received a curt note of three lines intimating that he was about to assert his innocence, and clear his name at my expense."
"Francis," cried Mrs. Hilliston, in a tone of terror, "you are lost! If all is known----"
"All will not be known," replied Hilliston, patting her hand; "only two people know the truth--you and I. We can keep our own counsel."
"But that little man, Tait, is at Horriston."
"He will see Belinda Pike there. You know how she hated me because I loved you. She wanted to marry you herself. If he meets Miss Pike she will speak against me."
"What of that?" said Hilliston soothingly. "You forget, my dear, that your life is different now. No one can find Louisa Sinclair in Louisa Hilliston. When you went to America you vanished and returned as Mrs. Derrick, the rich widow. Belinda Pike can never learn that. My dear, you distress yourself suddenly. We are perfectly safe."
"But the garnet scarfpin," questioned Mrs. Hilliston feverishly.
"I am secure on that point. Larcher knew that I was in the garden on that night, and may have thought I dropped it. He will not dare to accuse me of the crime. If he did," continued Hilliston, his brow growing black, "I could turn the tables on him in a manner he little expects. There is more evidence against him than against me."
"But if they learn that I was with you on that night?"
"They will never learn. No one saw you there. If they did, what does it matter? Louisa Sinclair is dead. You need have no fear of being recognized. I'll answer for that."
"It does not matter to me if I am known or not," said Mrs. Hilliston gloomily; "I have done with life."
"My dear, the doctor says you will recover."
"I shall not recover," said the sick woman, with emphasis. "Oh, do not deceive yourself, Francis! I shall never rise from this sick bed to be an object of horror and pity to you."
"You never loved me. You only married me out of pity. At Horriston you refused to make me your wife, and it was only when I returned from America a rich woman that you did so. Pity," she said, with a scornful laugh, "no, not pity, but necessity. You would have been ruined but for my money."
"I admit it, Louisa, and I am deeply grateful to you for the way in which you have helped me. I can never repay you for saving my name and credit."