His son, his only boy, the prop of his house, his idol--for his older children were both girls, and long ago gone from Fernside to the distant homes of their husbands. It was well that the mother was absent on a visit to them, or the sudden shock of Rupert’s terrible death must have broken her fond heart. The stricken father could not believe the tale the dying Terry told--that his noble son had clandestinely met a neighbor’s daughter and brought shame upon himself. “It is a foul lie,” he swore. “There has been some terrible mistake. Rupert never spoke a word to Eva Somerville, old Groves’ granddaughter, in all his honorable life! Have I not seen them pass each other with averted eyes or looks of scorn? They inherited the hatred of their ancestors. Go, bring him home to me, my murdered son! Let him not lie beneath my foeman’s roof!” When they told him that his son’s body must not be removed till after the inquest his rage was terrible to witness. He flung himself with his face to the ground, raving like a madman that he himself would go and drag Rupert away. Heaven knows how it all would have ended had not a young medical student in the party ventured to insert some morphine into his arm, drugging him into a restless sleep. So the night wore away, and early morning brought the inquest and a curious crowd to Stony Ledge. All the family were rigidly examined, but no light was thrown upon the mystery; nothing was learned either to support or refute the theory of Eva Somerville’s dishonor that had driven her cousin to avenge her by murder. A simple verdict was rendered in accordance with the facts--the two men had come to death by each other’s hands in a battle over Eva Somerville. Then the body of Doctor Ludington was borne away to Fernside, and at Stony Ledge the preparations went forward for Terry’s burial on the next day. Meanwhile, every one believed that the exiled granddaughter had gone away as ordered the previous night to seek her father in New York. Every tongue was busy in pity or blame. Some said it was a pity that Doctor Ludington richly deserved his fate; others declared that Eva was old enough to know better than to carry on a clandestine love affair with the enemy of the family. She might have known he meant no good. But, strangely enough, so biased was the evidence that no one doubted her guilt. All thought she had been very lucky to have a father to go to in New York, where perhaps her story need never become known.