With his mind filled with painful images from what he had seen, he returned to the house and traversed the library, as we have before seen without speaking to Mr. Driesen, or, indeed, holding communication with any one, till he had entered his own room and locked the door, that he might have a few minutes to calm his mind, and think, without interruption, over what had occurred. He had remained there for some time, before he perceived that in raising up the head and shoulders of the unhappy young man, whom he had just seen slain, both his hands and shooting-jacket had been stained with blood, and though he did not think it necessary to take any means of removing the spots from the shooting-jacket, he washed his hands with a feeling of horror and disgust at finding them dabbled all over with human gore. He had scarcely finished, when Mr. Driesen knocked at his door, and feeling himself perfectly innocent, he opened it without hesitation. Of the affair between Longly and young Hargrave he heard no more, till he himself became the tenant of a prison. But the news of what had occurred at Harbury park spread through the country, and was bruited in all the newspapers. Before two days were over, Longly found that Charles had suffered a verdict of "Wilful murder" to be returned against him, and had allowed himself to be carried to prison, rather than declare where he had spent that time, which he, Longly, himself could but too well account for; and, moreover, that his hands and coat had appeared stained with blood, which he, Longly, himself had shed. As soon as this was known to him, he sent off for young Morrison, and the result we have already seen. Such was the tale that Charles Tyrrell had to tell to Lucy Effingham, as she sat beside him on the deck of the vessel; and in telling it, though he softened some of the circumstances as far as possible, and entered into none of the minute details which had pained and horrified himself, he told her enough to agitate her by very different emotions; by joy and satisfaction to find that there existed a power of proving his innocence beyond all doubt, yet mingled with horror and dismay by his account of scenes, into the passions producing which, a gentle woman's heart could but feebly enter. CHAPTER XXI.