"Then it _was_ Neville. I suspected as much. But now, surely now that he is dead, there may be a chance for me." "My friend, you little know Elinor Calvert. She has made this murderer into a saint, and she will burn candles to his memory and say masses for his soul while she lives." "Hush! is this not she coming down the path?" "Ay, go you round through the underbrush and leave me to tell her." So advised, Ingle took a short cut through the woods, and Brent, walking on alone, met Elinor face to face. "Good morrow, Cousin!" "Would it were a _good_ morrow, Giles! But that can scarce be till we are good ourselves and credulous of good in others." "I have no time to play with words. I am come from stern scenes that wring men's souls." Elinor turned pale. "Hast thou seen him?" "By _him_ signifying Christopher Neville, I doubt not. Now I might put thee off by saying I have not seen him, as in a sense I have not; yet I have been near him and in a way to know his fate, which, not to delay ill news in the telling, is death by drowning." Elinor answered not a word. She grew deadly white, bowed her head, and turning about began to walk toward the house. Brent would not have been surprised to see her swoon at his feet, but this unnatural calmness terrified him. "Whither art thou bound?" he asked, catching up with her. "To the manor-house--there to say a prayer for the soul of him that's gone, then to pack my belongings and Cecil's." "To _pack_?" "Ay, and to make ready for our departure to St. Mary's. There we will make our home till we can betake ourselves to Cecil Manor. The house of the Brents can never again be shelter for me or mine." "Elinor! Have I deserved this?" "Thou hast been a kind kinsman to me, Giles, and for the past I thank thee; but thou art a hard man, and my heart is bitter against thee for the part thou hast played in driving an innocent man to his death." "I drive the poltroon!" muttered Brent. "Was he not drowned in a cowardly attempt to escape from a trial he dared not face?" "No!" flamed Elinor. "Thou dost speak as one who knows. Perhaps thou hast information. How canst thou talk so bold?" "I talk so bold because I do know--alas! none better. I--I tempted him--the other night--I promised him aid and begged him to escape, and he would not. He scorned the cowardice and vowed he would stand his trial and abide by the result." "Some other must have had more influence with him, then, for there was a woman's voice in the boat when he sank."