Cecil had crept from his mother's side, and joining Neville was now seeking to slip his little hand into the close-clenched one beside him. "I've brought thomething for you," he whispered, putting his other hand to the breast of his jerkin as they came to the door. Neville answered by a dreary smile. "It's a knife to take the place of the one you lost." The guard shook his head reprovingly. "No knives for prisoners, Cecil," said Neville. "Well, you shall have thomething, because you are my friend. I mean that you shall be my tenant at Robin Hood's Barn yet, and I don't think you killed the priest. Mother does; but men must think for themselves." Neville bit his lip till the blood came. "See," said Cecil, "here is a picture of Mother done on ivory. She gave it to me the morning I was lord of the manor. I asked if I could give it to you. She smiled and said it would be time enough to think of that when you asked for it, and I promised never to offer it to you till you did; but it ith a pretty picture, and you would like it to look at in the tobacco-house, and you could sell it for bread if you escape"--this in a lower whisper. "Now, do you ask for it?" Neville grew white to the lips. He looked at the picture as a starving man looks at bread. After an instant's hesitation he shut his teeth and drew himself up. "_No!_" he cried. Then wrenching his wrist from the jailer's clasp, he lifted Cecil in his arms, kissed him, and set him down again. "But I do thank thee from the bottom of a sad heart," he said, and added, "God bless thee and reward thee!" Inside the hall, with the dignity and formality of which neither fewness of numbers nor bareness of surroundings could rob our forefathers, the court filed down the room, Mistress Brent on her brother's arm. "Now, Giles," said his sister, "art thou satisfied at last who is the guilty man?" "I fear there can be no doubt." "I should say not, indeed. Even Margaret must needs give over her hot defence and admit that the voice of the Lord hath spoken." "I wish it would tell me what were good to do." "It does, Giles. It says, 'Be firm! Let not ill-timed tenderness protect the criminal! Blood guiltiness must be wiped out in blood.'" "That is not a gospel of love, Mary." "'Tis the gospel of justice. I feel a sense of guilt in myself that Holy Church hath suffered such outrage in the bosom of my household, and this guilt can only be purged away when we withdraw fellowship and sympathy from the evil-doer and deliver him up to justice. To-morrow, Giles, thou must go to St. Mary's and--" "Softly, Mary! In this matter we must move slowly and with caution." "Thy friendship for this man makes thee weak."