Beth Norvell, page 239 by Randall Parrish
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l--ther claim is payin big, but I never aint got over thinkin bout Mercedes. I shore loved her, an I do yit. You was awful good to her, an I reckon she 'd sorter want me to tell you jist how it wus. Hopin this will clar up som ov them troubles between you an Mister Winston, I am Yours with respects,
"WILLIAM BROWN."
Winston stood there in silence, yet holding the paper in his hand. Almost timidly she glanced up at him across the back of the chair.
"And you have never suspected who I was until to-night?"
"No, never; I had always thought of Bob's sister as a mere child."
She arose to her feet, taking a single step toward him.
"I can only ask you to forgive me," she pleaded anxiously, her eyes uplifted. "That is all I can ask. I ought to be ashamed, I am ashamed, that I could ever have believed it possible for you to commit such a deed. It seems incredible now that I have so believed. Yet how could I escape such conviction? I heard the voices, the shot, and then a man rushed past me through the darkness. Some rash impulse, a desire to aid, sent me hastily forward. Scarcely had I bent over the dead body, when some one came toward me from the very direction in which that man had fled. I supposed he was coming back to make sure of his work, and--and--it was you. Oh, I did not want to believe, but I had to believe. You acted so strangely toward me, I accepted that as a sign of guilt; it was a horror unspeakable."
"You thought--you actually thought I did that?" he asked, hardly trusting his own ears.
"What else could I think? What else could I think?"
This new conception stunned him, left him staring at her, utterly unable to control his speech. Should he tell her? Should he confess his own equally mad mistake? the reason why all these years had passed without his seeking her? It would be useless; it would only add to her pain, her sense of wounded pride. Silence now would be mercy.
"Beth," he said, controlling his voice with an effort, "let us think o