"No; I have not killed him. He was and is in the hands of the Lord." Then he told her what had happened that afternoon. Carlia listened with staring eyes and bated breath. And Dorian had actually risked his life in an attempt to save Jack Lamont! If Dorian only had known! But he would never know, never now. She had heard of the fight between Dorian and Lamont, as that had been common gossip for a time; but Carlia had no way of connecting that event with herself or her secret, as no one had heard what words passed between them that day, and Dorian had said nothing. And now he had tried to save the life of the man whom he had so thoroughly trounced. "What a puzzle he was! And yet what a kind, open face was his, as he sat there in the reddening evening light telling her in his simple way what he had done. What did he know, anyway? For it would be just like him to do good to those who would harm him; and had she not proved in her own case that he had been more patient and kind to her after her return than before. What did he know? "Shall I close the window?" he asked. "Is there too much draught?" "No; I must have air or I shall stifle. Dorian, tell me, what do you know about this Mr. Lamont?" "Why, not much, Carlia; not much good, at any rate. You know I met him only a few times." He tried to answer her questions and at the same time give her as little information as possible. "But Dorian, why did you fight with him?" "He insulted me. I've explained that to you before." "That's not all the reason. Jack Lamont could not insult you. I mean, you would pay no attention to him if only yourself were involved." "Now, Carlia, don't you begin to philosophize on my reasons for giving Jack Lamont a licking. He's dead, and let's let him rest in as much peace as the Lord will allow." "All right." "Now, my dear, you feel able to go down and have some supper. Your father and mother should be told the news, and perhaps I can do that better than anybody else. I'll go with you, and, if your mother has something good for supper, I'll stay." But the girl did not respond to his light speech. She sat very still by the window. For a long, long time--ages it seemed to her, she had suffered in silent agony for her sin, feeling as if she were being smothered by her guilty secret. She could not bring herself to tell it even to her mother. How could she tell it to anyone eke, certainly not Dorian. And yet, as she sat there with him she felt as if she might confide in him. He would listen without anger or reproach. He would forgive. He--her heart soared, but her brain came back with a jolt to her daily thinking again. No, no, he must not know, he must never know; for if he knew, then all would surely be over between them, and then, she might as well die and be done with it! "Come, Carlia." She did not even hear him.