There could be no doubt that she loved this fugitive, for her heart ached to think of the peril he was in. The poor girl's life had been a hard one, and now at the age of twenty, there did not seem much chance of improvement. Overhearing somewhat of the story told by Herries to Gowrie, she thought that his bad luck was very much like her own. Since her cradle, she had been the victim of misfortune, and nothing had gone well with her. Yet, had Elspeth been better fed and better dressed, and loved as a girl of her age should be loved, she would undoubtedly have bloomed into a pretty damsel. But cares had aged her, and want of good food rendered her lean. If Herries was Jonah, she was Mrs. Jonah. As this quaint thought came into her mind, she smiled and blushed. Much as she would have liked to be Mrs. Jonah, there was small chance of her achieving her desire. The man she loved was a supposed criminal, flying from justice, and even had his case been less desperate, he could not marry her for lack of money. And again, even had he possessed money, he would not have made her his wife, as he was not in love with her, as she was with him. The future looked very dark to this poor Cinderella seated by the fire; and thinking of her sorrows, the tears ran down her cheeks, although she had plenty of pluck. But the most plucky person gives way at times. She was aroused from her musings by the entrance of Pope in a state of excitement. He carried a lantern, and was covered with mud, his face was red, and his eyes flashed brightly. Elspeth started up in alarm fearing the worst. "Have they caught him?" she asked, laying her hand on her breast to still the loud beating of her heart. "Not yet, but they soon will," said the poet. "Everyone is searching the marshes all around, and the lanterns are dancing like will-o'-the-wisps in the foggy air. I have tried to find him, but I cannot. Oh, I hope mother or father will, and then I'll have the twenty pounds to publish my poems." "Would you sell that poor man for twenty pounds, Pope?" "Why not, Elspeth, if he is guilty?" "But he is not," declared the girl, vehemently. "You and everyone else have made up your minds that Mr. Herries killed Sir Simon. I don't believe that he did, and I hope that he has escaped." "Then if he is innocent, Mr. Gowrie must be guilty." Elspeth rose angrily, and darting forward, shook the long shambling lad furiously. "How dare you say that?" she cried. "Why should Mr. Gowrie kill Sir Simon?" "Sir Simon had money," stuttered Pope, much ruffled, and backing before the small fury who faced him. "He slept in this room, and could easily have gone upstairs, when everyone was quiet, to kill Sir Simon. "He did nothing of the sort, Pope. I know Mr. Gowrie better than you do, and he is incapable of such wickedness." "It was Mr. Gowrie who brought you here, wasn't it, Elspeth?" "Yes," said the girl listlessly, and all the light died out of her eyes, "a year ago."