“I knowed,” he pursued, “I knowed what ha’ done it. It wor Farmer Pooke throwed me out of employ--took the bread out o’ our mouths. Us had a bit o’ candle-end, and I wor down on my knees beside my wife, and little Joan lyin’ on her lap; and wife and I neither could speak; us couldn’t pray; us just watched the poor little maid passin’ away.” He was silent, but Kate heard that he was sobbing. Presently he said, “You’ve been kind. If you’ve got a bit o’ handkercher or what else, wipe my face with it, will’y. There’s something, the dew or the salt water from the oars, splashed over it.” The girl passed her shawl over the man’s face. “Thank’y kindly,” he said. Then he drew a long breath and continued his story. “Well, now, when wife and I saw as little Joan were gone home, then her rose up and never said a word, but laid her on our ragged bed; and I--I had the candle-end in my hand, and I put it into the lantern, and I went out. My heart were full o’ gall and bitterness, and my head were burning. I know’d well who’d killed our Joan; it were Farmer Pooke as turned me out o’ employ all about a bit o’ nonsense I said and never meant, and when I wor sober never remembered to ha’ said; so, mad wi’ sorrow and anger, I--I gone and done it with that there bit o’ candle-end.” “Oh, Roger, Roger! you have made matters much worse for yourself, for all.” “I might ha’ made it worser still.” “You could not--now. Oh, what will become of you, and what of your poor wife and little ones?” “For me, as Jan Tottle said, there’s the gallows; and I reckon for my Jane and the childer, there’s the grave.” “If you had not fired the rick, Roger!” “I tell you I might ha’ done worse than that, and now been a free man.” “I cannot see that.” “Put your hand down by my right thigh. Do you feel nothing there, hanging to the strap round my waist?” Kate felt a string and a knife, a large knife, as she groped. “Do you mean this, Roger?” “Yes, I does. As Jan Tottle wor a-wrastlin’ wi’ me here in this boat, and trying to overmaster me, the thought came into my head as I might easy take my knife and run it in under his ribs and pierce his heart. Had I done that, he’d ha’ falled dead here, and I’d a’ gotten scot-free away.” “Roger!” Kate shrank away in horror. “I didn’t do it, but I might. I’d no quarrel with young Jan. He’s good enough. It’s the old fayther be the hard and cruel one. I knowed what was afore me, as young Jan twisted and turned and threw me. I must be took to Exeter gaol, and there be hanged by the neck till dead--but I wouldn’t stain my hands wi’ an innocent lad’s blood. I wouldn’t have it said of my little childer they was come o’ a murderin’ villain.” Kate shuddered. Still holding fast the cord that constrained the man, and kept him in his position of helplessness, she drew back from him as far as she could without surrendering her hold.