"If I tell about the duel with Rupert," she thought, "it can do no good to the dead, and it may make scandal and annoyance for the living. Cromwell will take hold of it, and demand not only the jewels and money and papers, but also the body of Neville. That will make more ill feeling to the Stuarts, and it is manifest they are already very unwelcome with the French Court. It will be excuse for further unkindness, and they have enough and more than enough to bear." For a long time she sat musing in this strain, battling down intrusive doubts, until at last she was forced to give them speech. She did so impatiently, feeling herself compelled to rise and walk rapidly up and down the room, because motion gave her a sense of resistance to the thoughts threatening to overwhelm her. "Did Rupert kill Neville?" she asked herself. "Oh, me, I do fear it. And if so, I am to blame! I am to blame! I told Rupert Neville was going to take charge of my aunt’s jewels. Why was I such a fool? And Rupert knew that Neville had papers Charles Stuart would like to see, and money he would like to have. Oh, the vile, vile coin! I do fear the man was slain for it—and by Rupert. He lied to me, then; of course he lied; but that was no new thing for him to do. He has lied a thousand times to me, and when found out only laughed, or said ’twas for my ease and happiness, or that women could not bear the truth, or some such trash of words; and so I was kissed and flattered out of my convictions. Faith in God! but I have been a woman fit for his laughter! What shall I do?" She went over and over this train of thought, and ended always with the same irresolute, anxious question, "What shall I do?" It was not the first time she had accused Rupert in her heart. She knew him to be an incomparable swordsman; she knew he regarded duelling as a mere pastime or accident of life. The killing of Neville would not give him a moment’s discomfort,—quite otherwise, for he was a trifle jealous of him in more ways than one; and there were money and information to be gained by the deed. Politically, the man was his enemy, and to kill him was only "satisfaction." The story Rupert told her of the duel had always been an improbable one to her intelligence. She did not believe it at the time, and the lapse of time had impaired whatever of likelihood it possessed.