Then at last the light came into her eyes. Then at last the unnatural stiffness faded out of her frame. Then at last the awful coldness loosed its hold of her heart, and answering, 'George, I do not deserve your help,' she gave way to a tempest of tears. He waited till the storm had spent its first fury. Every shade of anguish passed across his face meanwhile. But he strove to master his feelings, and to put a commonplace expression into his voice, as he said at length: 'I have been in Abertaff the last two days--since I left you.' His voice trembled an instant, but he went on: 'I heard the news this morning, and came down at once. I want to defend you. I want you to accept my services as a token that you still look on me as a friend, in spite of all that has happened.' 'I don't know how to answer you,' she murmured. 'The more generous you are, the more ashamed I feel. I ought not to take your help. And yet you are the only creature in the world who has not forsaken me.' 'Don't say that, Eleanor. No one else knows you as I do. No one else feels to you---- but I won't say anything about that. One stipulation I must make. You are not to thank me--not one word.' And with a stern gesture he waved her off, as she made a movement as if to throw herself at his feet. 'But you must forgive me,' she said. 'Whether I am as wicked as you told me I was when we parted or not, you must tell me that you take me for what I am, that you expect no change in me.' She paused a moment, and then cried out with sudden vehemence: 'Oh, I have done you injustice! I didn't know how noble you could be! But it is too late; I cannot alter now.' An angry throb convulsed the man during her first words. At the end he ground his teeth and clenched his hands together. 'Silence, Eleanor! If you speak to me like that again, I shall go. There are to be no thanks, no praises. Never refer to the past. I know you and understand. If I cannot tear all hope out of my heart, what is that to you? I ask nothing, and will take nothing unless it is freely given.' He ceased, and she looked at him with a mixture of gratitude and fear. Then he referred to her dreadful situation. 'I needn't tell you, Eleanor, that as your counsel you must confide in me fully. I have heard the story so far as it is public, and up to now I may tell you that, as a matter of law, you are in no real danger.' Eleanor stared at him. 'In no danger? What do you mean? Is the murderer discovered?' 'No, and never may be. But neither is the body.' 'Why, what difference does that make?' 'Don't you know?' answered the barrister. 'I thought most people knew that till the body was discovered no one could be convicted of murder.' A ray of hope shone out in the prisoner's face. 'Then do you mean that Miss Lewis may be alive still?' she asked quickly.