"I tell you now again, in the presence of my wife here, that your suspicions are baseless, that you wrong Lady Gernon most cruelly; and that, but for the fact that you dared call me--a poor, but honourable soldier--thief, your last charge is so contemptible that it would not be worthy of an answer. Go now and try to undo the wrong you have done. Thief! robber!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "Who was the thief of my love--of my life? But there; I have done," he said, calmly. "I thought," he continued, tenderly, "that hope was crushed out of my existence; that there was to be no future for me. That day, when I cast myself down in the churchyard with the feeling of despair heavy upon me, it seemed as if, with one harsh blow, my life had been snapped in two. And it was nearly so; but Heaven sent his angel to save me, and to prove that there was hope, and rest, and happiness for me yet in this world." Ere he had finished speaking Ada had thrown herself into his arms, and was looking proudly in his scarred face. "Sir Murray Gernon," he continued, after an instant's pause, "I refused to meet you, and I have now told you the true reason for my having done so. In this world we shall probably never meet again. Our paths lie, as they ought, in different directions. It is fit they should. But once more, I swear before Heaven that your base charges are false. Go, and by honest, manly confession, try and win her back to life, and obtain her forgiveness. Tell her that I kept my word, even to making myself for her sake a coward in the eyes of the world." As he ceased speaking, he turned from Sir Murray to gaze down in his wife's face. There was a sad, despairing look in his countenance, though, that troubled her; it was the same drawn, haggard aspect that she had looked on years before; but as she clung to him closer and closer, twining her arms more tightly round him, and trying to draw that pale, scarred face to hers, the wild, scared aspect slowly faded away, for from her eyes he seemed to draw life and hope, and at last, with a sigh that seemed torn from his breast's utmost depths, he pressed his lips upon her forehead, and then turned once more to confront his accuser. But they were alone; for, after listening with conflicting thoughts to Norton's words, Sir Murray Gernon had slowly turned upon his heel, leaving the room, unnoticed. Book 1, Chapter XVII. JANE'S HEART.