"Perhaps I can; for I have thought over and studied the question all day," answered Miss Johnston, still in the same cold, clear, impartial voice. "He will be tried, of course. I find from your 'Taylor on Evidence,' father, that a man can be tried and convicted, solely on his own confession. But in this case, there being no corroborating proof, and all having happened so long ago, it will scarcely prove a capital crime. I believe no jury would give a stronger verdict than manslaughter. He will be imprisoned, or transported beyond seas; where, with his good character, he will soon work his liberty, and start afresh in another country, in spite of us. This, I think, is the common-sense view of the matter." Astonished as Mr. Johnston looked, he made no reply. His daughter continued:-- "And for this, you and we shall have the credit of having had arrested in our own house, a man who threw himself on our mercy, who, though he concealed, never denied his guilt; who never deceived us in any way. The moment he discovered the whole truth, dreadful as it was, he never shirked it, nor hid it from us; but told us outright, risking all the consequences. A man, too, against whom, in his whole life, we can prove but this one crime." "What, do you take his part?" "No," she said; "I wish he had died before he set foot in this house--for I remember Harry. But I see also that after all this lapse of years Harry is not the only person whom we ought to remember." "I remember nothing but the words of this Book," cried the old man, letting his hand drop heavily upon it. "'Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.' What have you to say for yourself, _murderer?_" All this time, faithful to her promise to me, she had not interfered--she, my love, who loved me; but when she heard him call me _that_, she shivered all over, and looked towards me. A pitiful, entreating look, but, thank God, there was no doubt in it--not the shadow of change. It nerved me to reply, what I will here record, by her desire and for her sake. "Mr. Johnston, I have this to say. It is written,--'Whoso hateth his brother is a murderer,' and in that sense, I am one,--for I did hate him at the time; but I never meant to kill him--and the moment afterwards I would have given my life for his. If now, my death could restore him to you, alive again, how willingly I would die." "Die, and face your Maker? an unpardoned man-slayer, a lost soul?" "Whether I live or die," said I, humbly, "I trust my soul is not lost. I have been very guilty; but I believe in One who brought to every sinner on earth the gospel of repentance and remission of sins."