"Oh, you frightened me so awfully when you looked like that--I thought you were making up your mind. Squire, don't tell what you know--don't tell what I've done. I'll be locked up and you'll be locked up, and Mrs. Awdrey's heart will be broke, and we'll all be disgraced forever, and, Squire, maybe they'll hang you. Think of one of the family coming to that. Oh, sir, you've no right to tell now. You'll have to think of me now, if you'll think of nothing else. I've kept your secret for close on six years, and if they knew what I had done they would lock me up, and I couldn't stand it. You daren't confess now--for my sake, sir." "Get up, Mrs. Vincent," said Awdrey. "I can't talk over matters with you while you kneel to me. You've done a good deal for me, and I'm bound to consider your position. Now, I'm going to tell you something which perhaps you will scarcely understand. I remembered the act of which I was guilty several months ago, but until last night my conscience did not trouble me about it. It is now speaking to me, and speaking loudly. It is impossible for me to tell you at present whether I shall have strength of mind to follow it and do the right--yes, the right, the only right thing to do, or to reject its counsels and lead a life of deceit and hypocrisy. Both paths will be difficult to follow, but one leads to life, the highest life, and the other to death, the lowest death. It is quite possible that I may choose the lowest course. If I do, you, Hetty Vincent, will know the truth about me. To the outside world I shall appear to be a good man, for whatever my sufferings, I shall endeavor to help my people, and to set them an outward example of morality. I shall apparently live for them, and will think no trouble too great to promote their best interests. Only you, Hetty, will know me for what I am--a liar--a man who has committed murder, and then concealed his crime--a hypocrite. You will know that much as I am thought of in the county here among my own people, I am allowing an innocent man to wear out his life in penal servitude because I have not the courage to confess my deed. You will also know that I am breaking the heart of this man's mother." "The knowledge won't matter to me, Squire. I'd rather you were happy and all the rest of the world miserable. I'd far, far rather." "Do you think that I shall be happy?" "I don't know," cried Hetty. "Perhaps you'll forget after a bit, and that voice inside you won't speak so loud. It used to trouble me once, but now--now it has grown dull." "It will never cease to speak. I know myself too well to have any doubt on that point, but all the same I may take the downward course. I can't say. Conscience has only just begun to trouble me. I may obey its dictates, or I may deliberately lead the life of a hypocrite. If I choose the latter, can you stand the test?" "I have stood it for five years."