Pity can make the human face almost like the face of an angel; there is no emotion that is so transforming. When pride, self-will, and selfishness, resign their sway, and pity, heaven-born and god-like, dawns, all that is mean, and coarse, and earthly, seems to fade before it, to grow dumb and quiet in the calm radiance of its risen fullness. Such pity beamed on me now, but its healing and tenderness came too late, "As on the uprooted flower, the genial rain." "You are very kind," I murmured; "but there is nothing anybody can do for me." He rose sadly. "I will not torment you, then. Will you come into the house? If you desire to go to your room, I will manage your excuses for you." With almost inaudible thanks, I hurried into the hall and upstairs. My aunt came up in the course of the evening, but Kitty represented me as "just going to sleep," and I was spared an interview. "Kitty!" I exclaimed, starting up, long after she had fancied I was soothed to sleep, "how--how will it all end? What is to become of him after we go? It was decided yesterday that we leave in two days' time, and you know it will not be safe for him to think of escape till the excitement has died away in the country. Poor Victor! What is to become of him?" "Don't fret," said Kitty, soothingly, "even if you have to leave him here, there'll be no more danger for him than if you stayed. Mr. Rutledge is going too, you know, and the house will be shut up, and it will be safer, if anything, than now. I'll write you every day of my life, and tell you how things go on. And, depend upon it, the worst of the danger is over. Since this body has been found in the lake, people will begin to content themselves that there's no use in looking further for the murderer--that he did it and then drowned himself in despair. Michael hasn't brought up the news of the inquest yet--he's waiting in the village to hear it; but I've no manner of doubt what it'll be. Everybody knows he and the doctor had dealings together, and that, with the character he bears, will tell against him." "You don't suppose he had any papers about him that might do Victor harm?" "If he had had, they wouldn't be of any use now; they've been in the water too long to serve any purpose, good or bad. No, Black John, as they call him, will have to bear the credit of the crime he was hunting poor Mr. Victor to death for. There ain't many that he didn't deserve to take the credit of. Everybody knows that he was nothing slow at all manner of wickedness, and it seems the likeliest thing in the world that he should do the devil's work; and, mark my words, before a week is over, there won't be man, woman or child in the country round, that won't curse Black John as Dr. Hugh's murderer. It won't do him much harm now, poor wretch; a few curses more or less won't make much difference to him where he is now, I suppose." "Had he a wife?"