Dear, dear Cloudy!--St. Mary, forgive me, I
never meant that--I meant plain Cloudy--see how you make me sin in
words! What did you send Mother Ettienne away for?"
"That I might talk to you alone. Why do you deny me that small
consolation, Lina? How have I offended, that you should treat me so?"
"In no way at all have you offended, dearest Cloudy--St. Peter! there it
is again--I mean only Cloudy."
"Never mind explaining the distinction. You are going to be a nun, you
say! Very well--let that pass, too! But you must leave your convent, and
go into the world yet once more, and then I shall have opportunities of
talking to you before your return."
"No, no; never will I leave my convent--never will I subject my soul to
such a temptation."
"My dear Lina, I have the cabalistic words that must draw you
forth--listen! Our cousin, Thurston Willcoxen, is in prison, charged
with the murder of Marian Mayfield"--a stifled shriek from
Jacquelina--"and there is circumstantial evidence against him strong
enough to ruin him forever, if it does not cost him his life. Now, Lina,
I cannot be wrong in supposing that you know who struck that death-blow,
and that your evidence can thoroughly exonerate Thurston from suspicion!
Am I right?"
"Yes! yes! you are right," exclaimed Jacquelina, in great agitation.
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