My heart died within me. I dropped my sick, strained eyes and could only listen in agonized silence. And he went on quite pitilessly. “You shouldn’t have left such evidence, you know--least of all for me to see. I had not forgotten the murder in your eyes when I spoke to you that morning and the evening before.” He struck the weed lightly with his right hand. “This stuff,” he said, “I know it, of course--grows up straight enough of itself. It wanted something human--or inhuman--to twist it round a leg in that fashion.” I broke out with a choking cry. “I did it,” I said; “but it wasn’t murder--oh, Jason, it wasn’t murder, as you mean it.” He gave a little cold laugh. “No doubt we have different standards of morality,” he said. “We won’t split hairs. Say it was murder as a judge and jury would view it.” “It wasn’t! Will you believe me if I tell you the truth?” “That depends upon the form it takes.” “I’ll tell you. It is the truth--before God, it is the truth! I won’t favor myself. I had been mad with him, I own, but had nearly got over it. I was out all day on the hills and thought I should like a bathe on my way home. I went through the ‘run’ and saw he was there. At first I thought I would leave him to himself, but just as I was going he saw me and a grin came over his face and--Jason, you know that if I had gone away then, he would have thought me afraid to meet him.” “You can leave me, Renalt, out of the question, if you please.” “I meant no harm--indeed I didn’t--but when I got there he taunted and mocked at me. I didn’t know what I was doing; and when he jumped for the water I followed him and twisted that round. Then in a single moment I saw what I had done--and was mad to unfasten it. It would not come away at first, and when at last I got him free and to the shore he was insensible. If you could only know what I suffered then, you would pity me, Jason--you would; you could not help it.” I stole a despairing look at his face and there was no atom of softness in it. “He came to on the way home and I was wild with joy, and at night, Jason, when you were in bed and asleep, I crept into his room and begged for his forgiveness and he forgave me.” “Without any condition? That wasn’t like Modred. What did he ask for in return?” I was silent. “Come,” he persisted, “what did he want? You may as well tell me all. You don’t fancy that I believe he forgave you without getting something substantial in exchange?” “I was to give up all claim to Zyp,” I said in a low, suffering voice. Jason laughed aloud. “Oh, Modred,” he cried, “you were a pretty bantling, upon my word! Who would have thought the dear fatty had such cunning in him?” His callous merriment struck me with a dumb horror as of sacrilege. But he subdued it directly and returned to me and my misery in the same repressed tone as before.