"I would trust August with my life," she more than once asserted. "He
does not come because he fears arrest, but some accident has befallen
him, and it may be that we shall none of us see him again, for I fear he
is dead."
It was thus the old mother talked to the officers, and to Miss Alstine,
who, in the kindness of her heart, visited her lover's mother.
Of course that lover was as nought to the young heiress now. She believed
him to be a villain of the deepest dye, yet she could not tell her
thoughts to that trusting old mother who seemed so wrapped up in her son.
"The idea that he could harm anybody," declared Mrs. Bordine to Rose,
with both plump hands on the girl's shoulders. "Why, he never even so
much as killed a chicken without shuddering."
"We will hope that a mistake has been made, dear Mrs. Bordine."
"And you are so kind," returned the old woman with tears in her eyes. Do
you know, Miss Alstine, I want to ask your forgiveness."
"For what, dear?"
"For unkind judgment of you."
"I am sure you never have misjudged me, dear."
"Oh, yes I have.
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