I must look elsewhere, as he had said--begin all over again. True--but now less than ever in my father’s direction. Had I needed in my heart convincing proof of the old man’s guiltlessness, his manner in accepting his acquittal would have afforded it. By this he had shown that with him, as with the hounds that had sought to pull him down, his guilt was purely conjectural--presumed merely on the circumstantial evidence of the braces found in his pocket. But I judged him in my heart and pronounced him acquitted. Now it was idle to moan over my impetuous rush to conclusions. I must only guard against permitting the disillusion to vex the few last days that remained to him. If I wronged the old dead housewife thereby, it was in degree only, for morally she was as guilty as if her charm had borne all the evil force she attributed to it. Well, I must see about getting some harpy in to minister to her final dumb necessities and then-- A low cry, coming from the other room, broke upon my ears. With beating heart I rushed from the death chamber only--merciful heaven--to enter another! At the first glance I saw that the white spirit had entered during my absence and had written the sign of eternity on my father’s forehead. He was sitting up in bed and the expression on his face was that of a dreadful, eager waiting. “Renalt!” He called to me in a clear, loud voice--the recovered note of an old stronger personality. I hurried to him; fell on my knees; put my arm about his shoulders. “Renalt, I am dying--but not yet. The spirit won’t let me pass till I have spoken.” He turned his head with a resolute effort and gazed upon me. “What thing have I been--what thing have I been? Send me my enemies that I may face and defy them! Which of them worse than myself? Oh, craven--craven!” “Father! I only am with you--no enemy, father!” He struck his fist down upon the counterpane. “By your love for me you shall know the truth! Judge me then--judge me then as you will. Hear me speak and make no answer till I have finished. Judge me then, and let me pass to my doom weighted with your judgment.” “Father!” “Renalt, I killed your mother!” I fell back appalled. An instant--then I leaned forward and again held him in my arms. “Ah!” his voice broke, swerved and recovered itself. “Not with this hand--my God, no--but surely and pitilessly none the less. Not a month after Modred was born I found my name and trust dishonored and by her. Listen! Speak nothing. You must know all! She had been in service in London before I married her--where, to this day I have never learned. I shall know soon--I shall know. She was friendless--a weak, irresponsible, beautiful young woman. I threw aside all for her sake, and my love grew tenfold in the act of combating the misfortune it brought me. I could love, Renalt--I could love. There was a passion in my fervor.” He clasped his hands wildly and looked piercingly before him.