"No," she went on, "I have nothing tangible--only my feelings. I
fear I must admit that my father had enemies, though who they are
I cannot tell you. No, it is all in my heart--not in my head.
There are those whom I dislike--and there are those whom I like
and trust. You may call me foolish, but I cannot help trusting--
Mr. Lockwood."
She had not meant to say his name, and Kennedy and I looked at her
in surprise.
"You see?" she continued. "Every time I talk I say something,
convey some impression that is the opposite of what I wish. Oh--
what shall I do? Have I no one to trust?"
She was crying.
"You may trust me, Senorita," said Kennedy, in a low tone, pausing
before her. "At least I have no other interest than finding the
truth and helping you. There--there. We have had enough to-day. I
cannot ask you to try to forget what has happened. That would be
impossible. But I can ask you, Senorita, to have faith--faith that
it will all turn out better, if you will only trust me. When you
feel stronger--then come to me. Tell me your fears--or not--
whichever does you the most good. Only keep your mind from
brooding. Face it all as you know your father would have you do."
Kennedy's words were soothing.
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