Even with the grief she was cast into, Ethel had quickly seen a chance to spite the man she hated, and instead of telling the truth, she had chosen to keep silent and let Jean Baptiste be convicted if possible for the crime he knew nothing of.

The people were filing out of the court room. Ethel's confession, born out of the excitement when the lawyer had mentioned investigating the crime deeply, had cleared everything, and Jean Baptiste was free.

In the court room during the hearing he had observed Agnes, but when the trial was over, she was nowhere to be seen. He looked around, but failed to find any trace of her. At last, with a sigh, he went with the lawyers and a few days later was home, to harvest the wheat she had told him was the best, and so he found it.

He was saved thereby, and went into the harvest with Bill and George again shocking as they had done years before. But there was no Agnes to bring the luncheon now, and Jean Baptiste lived in the memory of what had once been.

CHAPTER XIX

Table of Contents

WHEN THE TRUTH BECAME KNOWN

"I HAVE hardly seen you for two days, my dear," he complained when Agnes had returned from the hearing.

"I have been consumed with some very delicate business," she said, and notwithstanding the excitement she was laboring under, allowed him to caress her. At the same time he was regarding her strangely. For the first time he seemed to be aware of the fact that she was a rather strange person. He was trying to understand her eyes as everybody else had done, even herself.

"Will Agnes tell me what has kept her so busy and away, I know not where?" he asked tenderly. "Or would she rather not—now."

"She'd rather not—now," and she tried to be jolly, although she knew she must have failed miserably.

"Very well, my dear. But, sweet one, when are you going to become my own?"

She started. In the excitement she had so recently been through, the fact that she was engaged and expected to marry soon, had gone entirely out of her mind.

"Why, really—when?" She paused in her confusion, and he said quickly:

"Let's just get married—today!"

"Oh, no, please don't ask me to so soon."

He frowned. Then he was pleasant again. "Then, when, Agnes?"

She was still confused, and in that moment thought of the legacy. She was more confused. He caught her hand then, and touched her cheek with his lips.

After an hour she had told him of the legacy.

"That place is less than a hundred miles from Chicago and we can just run down there today and back this evening!" he exclaimed, shifting in anxious excitement. "We can go there and back today, and be married tomorrow."