“I knew you would shrink from me,” she said, in a low, wearied voice; “but it is true, papa. I am guilty of her death.” “I do not believe it,” said the earl; “it is incredible. Oh, Kenelm! she is mad! Bitter sorrow has distracted her. She is mad! My Hermione, my child--fairest, purest, dearest--I could sooner believe myself guilty than you! What cruel fancy, what blind delusion is this, Kenelm? Why do you not speak to me? Do you not see I am going mad with horror? What does it mean?” She stood white and silent, the image of despair. Mr. Eyrle laid his hand on Lord Lorriston’s arm. “I am afraid it is no fancy; I have every reason to fear that it is but too true.” “I will not believe it,” cried the earl, in a hoarse voice, full of pain. “I cannot believe it; it is against all nature, all sense, all reason. My daughter could never have injured a bird, much less have taken the life of her own friend. It is madness. This is either a conspiracy or a delusion. I will hear no more of it. What do you say, Hermione?” “Will you leave me?” she said; “only for a few moments. I am ill.” CHAPTER LI. A SOUL AT REST. “Leave her for a few minutes,” said Kenelm to the earl; “she will recover herself best alone.” But when they went to quit the room he was obliged to guide Lord Lorriston’s steps, for he stumbled like a blind man. “What does this mean, Kenelm?” he asked, when they stood out in the sunlit corridor. “Are you and Lady Hermione both mad?” “Lord Lorriston, it is a sad story. God forbid that I should judge. You know, everybody knows, that I have sworn to bring the murderer to justice. I would not have taken that oath had I known the murderess was your daughter.” “It is not true,” cried the earl, setting aside all moral reason. “Hermione has not the physical strength or daring for such a deed.” “I cannot tell; she says she is guilty, and surely she knows best.” “Tell me all about it; then I can judge,” said the unhappy father, despairingly. “The all is very simple. Yesterday I was helping Lady Alden to search for some papers, and I found hidden most carefully in the secret drawer of a box the dagger with which Lady Clarice was slain.” “You found that here?” he cried, “I will not believe it.” “There can be no reasonable doubt of it. Lady Hermione was terribly distressed at first. I thought, and naturally, too, that Ronald was guilty, and I told her that even were he my own brother, I would denounce him. When she found that I was resolved upon justice she owned herself guilty. Jealousy and love led her to do the deed.” “I will never believe it. I know too well how tender she is. I saw her grow, remember, from a babe to a woman, and I tell you she is incapable of a murder as I am of picking your pockets. There is some terrible mistake.” Suddenly he covered his face with his hands and moaned: