but could not speak. Otway had taken her hand in both his own; he looked at her with grave kindliness. It was their first meeting since Mrs. Hannaford's death.
"I hesitated about asking you to see me here," he said. "But I thought--I hoped----"
His embarrassment increased, whilst Olga was gaining self-command.
"You were quite right," she said. "I think I had rather see you here than anywhere else. It isn't painful to me--oh! anything but painful!"
They sat down. Piers was holding a large envelope, bulgy with its contents, whatever they were, and sealed; his eyes rested upon it.
"I have to speak of something which at first will sound unwelcome to you; but it is only the preface to what will make you very glad. It is about my brother. I have seen him two or three times this last week on a particular business, in which at length I have succeeded. Here," he touched the envelope, "are all the letters he possessed in your mother's writing."
Olga looked at him in distressful wonder and suspense.
"Not one of them," he pursued, "contains a line that you should not read. They prove absolutely, beyond shadow of doubt, that the charge brought against your mother was false. The dates cover nearly five years--from a simple note of invitation to Ewell--you remember--down to a letter written about three weeks ago. Of course I was obliged to read them through; I knew to begin with what I should find. Now I give them to you. Let Dr. Derwent see them. If any doubt remains in his mind, they will make an end of it."
He put the packet into Olga's hands. She, overcome for the moment by her feelings, looked from it to him, at a loss for words. She was struck with a change in Otway. That he should speak in a grave tone, with an air of sadness, was only natural; but the change went beyond this; he had not his wonted decision in utterance; he paused between sentences, his eyes wandering dreamily; one would have taken him for an older man than he was wont to appear, and of less energy. Thus might he have looked and spoken after some great effort, which left him wearied, almost languid, incapable of strong emotion.
"Why didn't he show these letters before?" she asked, turning over the sealed envelope.
"He had no wish to do so," answered Piers, in an undertone.
"You mean that he would have let anything happen--which he could have prevented?"
"I'm afraid he would."
"But he offered them now?"
"No--or rather yes, he offered them," Piers smiled bitterly. "Not however, out of wish to do justice."
Olga could not understand. She gazed at him wistfully.
"I bought them," said Piers. "It made the last proof of his baseness."
"You gave money for them? And just that you might give them to me?"
"Wouldn't you have done the same, to clear the memory of someone you loved?"
Olga laid the packet aside; then, with a quick movement, stepped towards him, caught his hand, pressed it to her lips. Piers was taken by surprise, and could not prevent the action; but at once Olga's own hand was prisoned in his; they stood face to face, she blushing painfully, he pale as death, with lips that quivered in their vain effort to speak.
"I shall be grateful to you as long as I live," the girl faltered, turning half away, trying gently to release herself.
Piers kissed her hand, again and again, still speechless. When he allowed her to draw it away, he stood gazing at her like a man bewildered; there was moisture on his forehead; he seemed to struggle for breath.
"Let us sit down again and talk," said Olga, glancing at him.
But he moved towards her, the strangest look in his eyes, the fixed expressionless gaze of a somnambulist.
"Olga----"
"No, no!" she exclaimed, as if suddenly stricken with fear, throwing out her arms to repel him. "You didn't mean that! It is my fault. You never meant that."
"Yes! Give me your hand again!" he said in a thick voice, the blood rushing into his cheeks.
"Not now. You misunderstood me. I oughtn't to have done that. It was because I could find no word to thank you."
She panted the sentences, holding her chair as if to support herself, and with the other hand still motioning him away.
"I misunderstood----?"
"I am ashamed--it was thoughtless--sit down and let us talk as we were doing. Just as friends, it is so much better. We meant nothing else."
It was as if the words fell from her involuntarily; they were babbled, rather than spoken; she half laughed, half cried. And Otway, a mere automaton, dropped upon his chair, gazing at her, trembling.
"I will let my uncle see the letters at once," Olga went on, in confused hurry. "I am sure he will be very grateful to you. But for you, we should never have had this proof. I, of course, did not need it; as if I doubted my mother! But he--I can't be sure what he still thinks. How kind you have always been to us!"
Piers stood up again, but did not move toward her. She watched him apprehensively. He walked half down the room and back again, then exclaimed, with a wild gesture:
"I never knew what a curse one's name could be! I used to be proud of it, because it was my father's; now I would gladly take any other."
"Just because of that man?" Olga protested. "What does it matter?"
"You know well what it matters," he replied, with an unnatural laugh.
"To me--nothing whatever."
"You try to think not. But the name will be secretly hateful to you as long as you live."
"Oh! How can you say that! The name is yours, not his. Think how long we knew you before we heard of him! I am telling the simple truth. It is you I think of, when----"
He was drawing nearer to her, and again that strange, fixed look came into his eyes.
"I wanted to ask you something," said Olga quickly. "Do sit down--will you? Let us talk as we used to--you remember?"
He obeyed her, but kept his eyes on her face.
"What do you wish to ask, Olga?"
The name slipped from his tongue; he had not meant to use it, and did not seem conscious of having done so.
"Have you seen old Mr. Jacks lately?"
"I saw him last night."
"Last night?" Her breath caught. "Had he anything--anything interesting to say?"
"He is ill. I only sat with him for half an hour. I don't know what it is. It doesn't keep
