"No, it is mine," said Miss Cass, very coolly. "I share it with you and Mrs. Jent. Whether I know all or not I am not prepared to say, but you are going to tell me all. Now then!" He hesitated. "Very good," he said at length. "I will tell you all I know, and we will work together to get this poor woman restored to freedom." "What? Is she innocent?" "I am certain of that. Whosoever murdered Jenner, it was not his wife." "But she was found guilty." "She is not the first innocent person who has been found guilty. Wait till you have heard the whole story, then you shall judge." "I certainly should not think of judging beforehand," she said, disdainfully. "You must not think me silly. Now go on from the very beginning." Seated on the iron bench with his gaze fixed seaward, Heron employed the best part of an hour in telling the story. Ruth, for the most part, listened quietly, only now and again putting a question so much to the point as to amaze her companion. And as he neared the end, and these questions and comments became more frequent, Geoffrey congratulated himself on having taken her into his confidence. "Poor Neil!" she sighed at last. "How he must have suffered!" "And how he does suffer," Heron said, gloomily. "He loves his mother beyond any created being, and he will never be at peace until he sees her rescued from the fate to which she has been so unjustly condemned." "That shall be our task," responded Ruth, with alacrity. "Neil is too weak a man to take this burden upon him. Now I know why I could never love him altogether, why I was never satisfied." "What do you mean?" asked Heron, anxiously. "Well, it is this way," said Miss Cass, drawing figures on the gravel with the tip of her umbrella. "I fell in love with him when I heard him play, he looked so handsome and so noble--so inspired; but when we were together something always seemed to be wanting. I know now what it was--strength, the strength of a man. I believe, Geoffrey," she went on without noticing that she was using his Christian name, that what a woman wants in a husband is a master. "I wonder if I shall ever get what I want? I don't know. Are there such men?" She looked sideways at Heron, not in a coquettish way, but rather wistfully. Geoffrey felt that embarrassment which every honest man feels at the thought of having an egotistical speech forced upon him. He loved this girl, and he was sure that she loved him. "Well, Geoffrey," she said, after waiting in vain for a reply, "I will be your wife." "You will My dearest!" "Hush! Don't take my hands; don't speak so loud. We are in a public place, remember, and many eyes are on us. Yes, I will marry you, for you are--a man!" "But I can never be your master, dearest," he said, filled with delight; "for who would rule a dove?"