And he certainly did not do as much to combat the feeling as he might have done. This was noticed. He did not assert his innocence strenuously and earnestly. He said he was not guilty, it's true, but he said it too quietly. A man accused of so terrible a crime would move heaven and earth to prove the charge false--if false it were. Jack denied his guilt, but denied it in a very tame fashion. And this had its effect upon his upholders. There could be no mistaking that some inward trouble tormented him. His warm, genial manners had given place to thoughtfulness and care. Was Jack guilty?--his best friends acknowledged the doubt now, in the depths of their heart. Herbert Tanerton was worrying himself into a chronic fever: chiefly because disgrace was reflected on his immaculate self, Jack being his brother. Squire Todhetley, meeting Jack one day in Robert Ashton's cornfield, took Jack's hands in his, and whispered that if Jack did strike the blow unwittingly, he knew it was all the fault of that unhappy, cross-grained Pym. In short, the only person who retained full belief in Jack was his wife. Jack had surely done it, said Timberdale under the rose, but done it unintentionally. Alice related her dream to Jack. Not being given to belief in dreams, Jack thought little of it. Nothing, in fact. It was no big, evil-faced man who harmed Pym, he answered, shaking his head; and he seemed to speak as one who knew. Timberdale was no longer a pleasant resting-place for John Tanerton, and he quitted it for Liverpool, with Alice and their little girl. Aunt Dean received him coolly and distantly. The misfortune had put her out frightfully: with Jack's income threatened, there would be less for herself to prey upon. She told him to his face that if he wanted to correct Pym, he might have waited till they got out to sea: blows were not thought much of on board ship. The next day Jack paid a visit to the owners, and resigned his command. For, he was still attached ostensibly to the _Rose of Delhi_, though another master had temporarily superseded him. "Why do you do this?" asked Mr. Charles Freeman. "We can put you into another ship, one going on a shorter voyage, and when your own comes home you can take her again." "No," said Jack. "Many thanks, though, for your confidence in me. All the world seems to believe me guilty. If I were guilty I am not fit to command a ship's crew." "But you were not guilty?" More emphatically than Jack had yet spoken upon the affair, he spoke now: and his truthful, candid eyes went straight into those of his questioner. "_I was not._ Before Heaven, I say it." Charles Freeman heaved a sigh of relief. He liked Jack, and the matter had somewhat troubled him.