The question found her still in doubt as to what she should say in defense of her lover, but with the query came decision of purpose, and she readily replied: 

“I think it is a forgery.”

“A forgery?”

“Yes, so far as Hadley is concerned.  I do not believe he has ever seen it.”

“You surely do not believe I would be guilty of such baseness as your words imply.”

“Oh! no, no; I do not for a moment doubt your good faith and perfect sincerity; but I think you are deceived.  How did you get possession of this document?”

“Well, I must confess, not in the most upright manner, or rather, my knowledge of that portion of its contents which is intelligible, was obtained ignobly; but I cannot blame myself for the act, since it has placed such important facts at my disposal.”

Here he related the circumstance of finding and reading the letter, and then added: 

“You see the whole train of circumstances renders it impossible that Hadley should not be the one to whom the letter was addressed.  I found it just in the place where he was in the habit of coming, a spot that no one else frequented, and so secluded as to forbid the idea of a casual passenger dropping it.  Beside, where is there another person of the same name?”

“I frankly own there is a mystery connected with the subject which I cannot explain, but that mystery does not convince me of Hadley’s guilt.”

“What incredulity!  What stronger evidence do you want to convict him?”

“I desire positive assurance that the letter was actually written to and for him; at present I do not believe that it was.”

“Love is truly blind!”

“Love?”

“Yes.”

“What has that to do with the case under consideration?”

“It is not worth while for you to disguise the fact that you have loved Hadley; I know that you do or did, and your own heart knows full well how much it has suffered through that love.  Alas, that I, your own father, should have caused you so much anguish!”

“Does my father really say that?”

“Yes, Eveline, and much more.  If you only knew how deeply I have suffered, what anguish I endured, as your fevered and broken exclamations fell upon my ear while watching by your bedside, I think you could find it in your heart to forgive me for the unintentional wrong, it was my misfortune, and not my wish, to inflict upon you.”

“Father, I have wronged you,” said she, leaning forward and winding her arms about his neck.  “Forgive me for accusing you of cruelty and unkindness in my thoughts.”

“You had cause for such accusation, though it was farthest from my thoughts to injure you.  I did, however, once think of forcing you to wed Duffel, and this is the only real wrong I meditated against you, and I was persuaded it was for your good; but I see differently now—­you shall never be coerced into a union with any man against your will.”