"I have begun to realize it since we
came to Canada--one sees things differently here. But, in a sense, I
think you were not to be blamed; you acted in the belief that you were
right."

She had seldom ventured to address him with so much candor and she was
surprised at his calmness.

"Yes," he said, "it is some relief to remember that; but I was wrong."

"Then shouldn't it make you more careful not to fall into a similar error
again? You have a fixed idea in your mind and the way you dwell on it is
breaking you down; seeing you suffer is wearing me. Can't you believe
that there is room for doubt?"

"I wish I could," he said with some gentleness, recognizing the anxious
appeal in her voice. "But I imagined you were as convinced as I am of
Prescott's guilt."

"Oh," she replied miserably, "I believed I was; but I don't know what to
think!"

He noticed the distress in her face with uncomprehending sympathy. He was
fond of her, in his stern, reserved fashion, and knew she must deeply
feel the loss of her brother.

"As soon as he saw he was suspected, Prescott ran away," he continued.
"That must count against him. If he had had any motive except the wish to
escape, he would have mentioned it."

Gertrude sat silent, tormented by confused emotions. Prescott had told
her he was going to hunt for Cyril, and until she had seen his devotion
to Muriel she had felt that she must believe in him; then her mind had
been filled with jealousy and doubt. She thought she hated him; after
all, he might be guilty. It was not her part to speak in his defense;
though she felt she was acting treacherously, she could not stand up for
him.

"It is possible that the police were wrong about Cyril," she said at
length.

"I'm afraid not," said Jernyngham. "It might be urged that Prescott has
come back; but I believe that was only to sell his wheat." He broke into
a harsh laugh. "One must admit that the fellow has courage; but he won't
find it easy to escape again. Every move of his will be watched."

Gertrude sat very still for a few moments, her lips tightly pressed
together. Then she made a gesture of weariness.

"Oh," she said, "it's all so hard to bear! There's nothing but doubt and
suspense; not a ray of comfort!"

Getting up languidly she went out and left her father lost in thought.

An hour or two afterward, Prescott sat near the stove in his homestead,
moodily making entries in an account-book, when he heard voices in the