"Did not Philip King say that Mr. Heneage had raised his gun, aimed at him, and fired?—that he saw him do it?" "He did not, aunt. He only said what I have told you." "Lie the first!" she exclaimed, lifting her hand and letting it fall passionately. "Then you never saw Mr. Heneage?" "I saw him later." And I went on to tell her of the meeting him through my taking the wrong turning. I told her all: how he looked like one in mortal fright; what he said; and of my asking him whether he had done it. "Well?" she feverishly interrupted. "Well?" "He quite denied it," I answered, repeating to her exactly the words Mr. Heneage had said. "You say he looked scared—confused?" "Yes, very much so." "And Mr. Edwin Barley—did he?" "Not at all. He looked just as he always looks. He seemed to be surprised, and very sorry; his voice, when he spoke to Philip King, was kinder than I ever heard it." Another pause. She seemed to be thinking. "I can hardly understand where it was you saw George Heneage, Anne: you must show me, to-morrow. Was it on the same side from which the shot came?" "Yes; I think near to the place. Or how could he have heard Mr. Barley speak to me?" "How long had you been in the wood when the shot was fired?" "About ten minutes or a quarter of an hour." "Little girls compute time differently from grown people, Anne. A few minutes might seem like a quarter of an hour to you." "Mamma taught me how differently time appears to pass, according to what we may be doing, Aunt Selina. That when we are pleasantly occupied, it seems to fly; and when we are impatient for it to go on, or in any suspense or fear, it does not seem to move. I think I have learnt to be pretty exact, and I do believe that I was in the wood nearly a quarter of an hour. I was running about for some time, looking for Mr. Heneage, as you told me, before I found I had lost myself. And then I was some minutes getting over the fright. I had said my prayers, and——" "You had—WHAT?" "I was much alarmed; I thought I might have to stay in the wood until morning, and I could only pray to God to protect me: I knew that harm would not come to me then. It must have been a quarter of an hour in all: so you see Mr. Heneage did not do it in the heat of passion, in running after him: he must have done it deliberately." "I don't care," she repeated to herself, in a sort of defiant voice; "I know George Heneage did not wilfully shoot Philip King. If he did do it, it was an accident; but I don't believe he did." "If he did not, why did he hide in the wood, and look as if he had done something wrong, Selina? Why did he not go boldly up, and see what was amiss with Philip King, as Mr. Edwin Barley did?"