Then the young men parted and Neil returned to his home, for he did not dare to intrude his presence at that hour between the distressed father and daughter. It was hard enough to have Maria to meet; and the moment she heard his step she came weeping to him. "Tell me, Uncle Neil," she cried, "what have they done to Harry? I am sick with suspense. Are they going to kill--to hang him?" Her voice had sunk to a terrified whisper, and he looked pitifully at her and drew her within his embrace. "My dear Maria!" then his lips refused to say more, and he suffered his silence to confirm her worst fears. After a few moments he added: "His only hope is in Lord Medway's influence. I think Medway may do something." "Oh!" she sobbed "if he can only save his life! I would be content never to see him again! Only ask him to save his life. If Harry is killed I shall feel like a murderer as long as I live. I shall not dare to look at myself, no one will want to look at me. I shall die of grief and shame! Uncle, pity me! pity me!" "My dear Maria, it is not your fault." "It is, it is! He took his life in his hand just to see me." "He was a selfish fool to do such a thing. See what misery he has made. It is his own fault and folly." "Every one will despise me. I cannot bear it. People will say, 'She deserves it all. Why did she meet the young man unknown to her friends? See what she has done to her grandparents and her uncle.' People like Captain DeVries will frown at me and cross the street; and their wives and children will go into their houses when I come near and peep at me through the windows, and the mothers will say, 'Look at her! look at her! She brought a fine young man to the gallows, and her friends to shame and poverty.' Uncle, how am I to bear it?" "I think, my poor child, Lord Medway has some plan. Money unbars all doors but heaven's, and Medway has plenty of money. Besides, General Clinton is easily moved by him. I do not think Clinton will refuse Medway anything; certainly not, if Harry will tell who wrote the cipher message he was carrying." "But Harry will not tell, will he?" "I feel sure he will not." "If he did, he would deserve to die. I would not shed a tear for him. As for Quentin Macpherson!--I wish that I was a man. I would cut his tongue out." "Maria!" "I would, truly. Then I would flog him to death." Neil's dark face flushed crimson; his fingers twitched; he looked with approval and admiration at the passionate girl. "One hundred years ago--in Scotland," he said, "I would have answered, 'Yes! He deserves it! I will do it for you!'" "It is so wretched to be a woman! You can go out, see for yourself, hear for yourself; a girl can only suffer. Hour after hour, all night long, all day long, I have walked the floor in misery. How does Agnes bear it? She was cross, and sent me away this morning." "She looks very ill; but she is calm, and not without hope. She has spoken to God and been comforted. Can you not do so?"