"Because of this tragic thing you must believe me. It will be necessary that you should. What you have thought of me with regard to your mother is not true. You believed it because the world did. Denial on my part would merely have called forth laughter. Why not? When a man who has money and power takes charge of a pretty, penniless woman and pays her bills, the pose of Joseph or Galahad is not a good one for him. My statement would no more have been believed than yours will be believed if you can produce no proof. What you say is what any girl might say in your dilemma, what I should have said would have been what any man might have said. But--I believe you. Do you believe _me_?" She did not understand why suddenly--though languidly--she knew that he was telling her a thing which was true. It was no longer of consequence but she knew it. And if it was true all she had hated him for so long had been founded on nothing. He had not been bad--he had only _looked_ bad and that he could not help. But what did that matter, either? She could not feel even sorry. "I will--try," she answered. It was no use as yet, he saw. What he was trying to deal with was in a new Dimension. He held out his hands and helped her to her feet. "The Wood is growing very dark," he said. "We must go. I will take you to Mrs. Bennett's and you can spend the night with her." The Wood was growing dark indeed. He was obliged to guide her through the closeness of the undergrowth. They threaded their way along the narrow path and the shadows seemed to close in behind them. Before they reached the end which would have led them out into the open he put his hand on her shoulder and held her back. "In this Wood--even now--there is Something which must be saved from suffering. It is helpless--it is blameless. It is not you--it is not Donal. God help it." He spoke steadily but strangely and his voice was so low that it was almost a whisper--though it was not one. For the first time she felt something stir in her stunned mind--as if thought were wakening--fear--a vague quaking. Her wan small face began to wonder and in the dark roundness of her eyes a question was to be seen like a drowned thing slowly rising from the deeps of a pool. But she asked no question. She only waited a few moments and let him look at her until she said at last in a voice as near a whisper as his own. "I--will believe you." CHAPTER XVII He was alone with the Duchess. The doors were closed, and the world shut out by her own order. She leaned against the high back of her chair, watching him intently as she listened. He walked slowly up and down the room with long paces. He had been doing it for some time and he had told her from beginning to end the singular story of what had happened when he found Robin lying face downward on the moss in Mersham Wood. This is what he was saying in a low, steady voice.