"I know it as I know that water runs downhill, that fire burns. Shall I swear by these and doubt the laws that rule a soul?" Neville looked at his sister in a sort of trance of bewilderment. Could this be the little girl he had played with and laughed at and teased and loved as one loves a pet and plaything,--this pale young creature, with eyes aflame with righteous wrath, with pity on her lips, and all her heart bursting with sympathy and tenderness? Her brother took her hand in his with a feeling akin to reverence. "You will never know how much you have comforted me," he said. "I did not do it, Peggy. I did not do it. Cherish that certainty as a support in the hard, dark days thou wilt be called to pass through." "Waste no time in telling me what I know already as well as thou. Let us take counsel rather, while we may. Tell me first what do they say? What reason have they? What have they found, seen, imagined?" "Not much, but enough; they know that I followed Father Mohl out into the night--that he was never seen after till he was found dead in the wood yonder." "But how couldst thou have joined in a death struggle and brought home no trace of conflict?" "When I came back I was torn with brambles and stained with blood--of a beast, I told them--but who could know if I spoke truth?" It was characteristic of Neville to see his adversary's case more strongly than his own. "This is all but a series of happenings. Any one might have met with the same disaster, and come to his death by an arrow from the bow of one of the natives." "It was no arrow that did the deed. It was a knife--an English knife." "Oh, I am so glad! now surely they can trace the murderer." Neville gave a deep groan, and leaned his head upon his arm against the tree. "_Peggy, the knife was mine._" "Thine!" "Ay; Governor Brent found it hid in the folds of the priest's cloak. He knew it for mine. Canst thou wonder that he accuses me?" "Does--does any one else suspect thee?" Neville said nothing, yet his sister was answered. "Oh, cruel! cruel!" she cried. "How could she know thee so long, and credit any such base slander? She is a--" "Hush! Not a word of her. Whatever she does, says, thinks, is right and forever beyond cavil." "Monstrous!" groaned his sister, "the man is so daft that if this woman tells him he has committed murder he will bow his head in meek assent. Oh, be a man, be a man, I pray thee, and give her back scorn for scorn!" "She has shown me no scorn,--only a sad, half-sick listlessness, as though she too had got a death-wound at my hands. It is that which has cut me to the heart as no pride or wrath or disdain had had power to do." Peggy shivered. Her brother noticed it. "What a brute I am," he murmured, "to keep thee standing here in the cold night air. 'Tis of a piece with my selfishness. Get thee in and know that thou hast brought something like comfort to the heart of a sorrow-stricken man. Good-night, and God bless thee!"