and Richard Lambert's
upon her. Both these young people who had carved their own Fate in the
very rock which now had shattered their lives, seemed to be searching
for something vague, unavowed and mysterious which instinct told them
was there, but which was so elusive, so intangible that the soul of each
recoiled, even whilst it tried to probe.

Entirely against her will Sue--whilst she looked on her guardian--could
think of nothing save of that day in Dover, the lonely church, the
gloomy vestry, and that weird patter of the rain against the window
panes.

She was not ashamed of what she had done, only of what she had felt for
him, whom she now believed to be dead; that she gave him her fortune was
nothing, she neither regretted nor cared about that. What, in the mind
of a young and romantic girl, was the value of a fortune squandered,
when that priceless treasure--her first love--had already been thrown
away? But now she would no longer judge the dead. The money which he had
filched from her, Fate and a murderous hand had quickly taken back from
him, crushing beneath those chalk boulders his many desires, his vast
ambitions, a worthless life and incomparable greed.

Her love, which he had stolen ... that he could not give back: not that
ardent, whole-souled, enthusiastic love; not the romantic idealism, the
hero-worship, that veil of fantasy behind which first love is wont to
hide its ephemerality. But she would not now judge the dead. Her
romantic love lay buried in the lonely church at Dover, and she was
striving not to think even of its grave.

Squire Boatfield's kindly voice recalled her to her immediate
surroundings and to the duty--self-imposed--which had brought her
thither.

"My dear child," he said, speaking with unwonted solemnity, "if what you
have just stated be, alas! the truth, then indeed, you and you only can
throw some light on the terrible mystery which has been puzzling us all
... you may be the means which God hath chosen for bringing an evildoer
to justice.... Will you, therefore, try ... though it may be very
painful to you ... will you try and tell us everything that is in your
mind ... everything which may draw the finger of God and our poor eyes
to the miscreant who hath committed such an awful crime."

"I fear me I have not much to tell," replied Sue simply, "but I feel
that it is my duty to suggest to the two magistrates here present what I
think was the motive which prompted this horr