Another Woman's House by Mignon G. Eberhart Page B

the room was talking. He was coming toward Richard, his hand out. Willie, pushing at her ankles, uttered a soft growl, and crept under a chair.
    Richard still had not moved. The strange man, big and jovial in appearance, except for his shrewd and rather cold eyes, was smiling but looked nervous. Myra began to take in words. “… am sorry I could not have prepared you for it, Thorne. But it seemed the more merciful way for us to come as secretly and quickly as we could. Mrs. Thorne has suffered too much already from public pillory. I did stop as we came through the village and tried to phone to you but the man who answered said you were out. So we came on.” Richard’s hand moved as if he had no awareness of it. The big man pumped it up and down.
    Alice’s voice was as high and sweet as a canary’s. She said, “He means I’m free, Richard. He brought me here himself.”
    Myra would not have said that she could have remembered Alice so accurately. It had been at least six years since she had seen her and then only briefly. But she did remember every curve of her fine, delicately featured face, her round white throat, her soft golden hair, drawn back now from her white low forehead to a large bun on the back of her neck. She wore somber black which set off the lovely curves of her figure against the red chair, and no lipstick. Her eyes looked enormous and there were shadows below them; her small soft white hands lay, palms up, helplessly along the arms of the chair; she was watching Richard.
    The big man said quickly, “Webb Manders confessed to perjury this morning. His testimony against your wife was a lie and he has signed a confession to that effect. Consequently, legally, the basis for your wife’s conviction was fraudulent. Thank God it lay within my power as Governor to free her, quickly and quietly. I cannot right a great and tragic injustice that was done; but I have done everything within my power to correct it.” He stopped and looked at Alice and said rather gently, “Perhaps you’d better take her upstairs, Thorne. She has been through an exhausting experience.”
    â€œYes,” said Alice. “Yes.”
    Richard seemed still unable to move. The Governor said, “Take her, Thorne. I’ll explain everything when you come down again. But first see to her. …”
    Alice rose then, unsteadily, her small hands clinging now to the chair. She said, “My own home. My husband …” and held out her hands appealingly, like a child, looking up at Richard.
    There was an instant of silence in the room.
    Then Richard moving like an automaton went toward her. His broad shoulders blocked out the view of Alice. The Governor cleared his throat. But Alice did not put her arms up around Richard. He did not bend toward her. Myra wished to look away and could not. Alice slid her arm through Richard’s and said in her high, sweet voice, unsteady now, as if near collapse, “Richard, I—I can’t believe it. It seems like a miracle …”
    The Governor cleared his throat again and said, “I don’t want to suggest—I suppose the family doctor—that is, she’s not ill, of course, but …”
    â€œNo, no,” said Alice. “I’ll be all right. She moved and turned and Myra could see her now, leaning against Richard. Her small lovely face was very white. She said unsteadily, “I can’t thank you, Governor. I can’t tell you …”
    â€œNo need,” said the Governor gruffly. “No need. Just take care of yourself, dear Mrs. Thorne. Get some roses back in those cheeks. Try to forget. And don’t worry about anything. We’ll do everything we can about the newspapers. We’ve kept them out of it so far. No tears now …”
    She smiled. Her gaze fell on the fur coat. She said, “Tell your wife that her kindness in sending her own coat for me to wear was almost