she cried out. "You believe that Burr
did it--_you!_"

"They--saw--him--there," moaned Dorothy, with a terrified roll of her
tearful eyes at Madelon's face.

"_Saw him there!_ What if they did see him there? What if the whole
town saw him? What if you saw him? What if you saw him strike the
blow with your own eyes? Wouldn't you tear them out of your own head
before you believed it? Wouldn't you cut your own tongue out before
you'd bear witness against him?"

Dorothy sobbed convulsively.

"I would," said Madelon.

Dorothy hid her face away from her in the pillow.

Madelon laid her hand on her fair head, and turned it with no gentle
hand. "Listen to me now," she said. "You've got to listen. You've got
to hear what I say. You ought to believe without being told, without
knowing anything about it, that he's innocent, if you're a woman and
love him; but I'm going to tell you. Burr Gordon didn't kill his
cousin Lot. I did!"

Dorothy gave a faint scream and shrank away from her.

"I did!" repeated Madelon. "Now do you believe he's innocent, when
somebody else has told you?"

Dorothy's face was white as her pillows, her eyes big with terror.
There was a soft thud against her door. The black woman was keeping
arduous watch.

"You couldn't!" Dorothy gasped out.

"I could! Look at my hands; they are as strong as a man's."

"You--couldn't!"

"I could, and I did."

Dorothy shook her head in hysterical doubt.

"Listen," said Madelon--"listen. I'll tell you why I did it, Dorothy
Fair. Burr Gordon had been with me a little before he went with you.
Perhaps you knew it. If you did, I am not blaming you--he's got
taking ways, you couldn't help it; and I am not blaming him--he's a
man, and you're fairer complexioned than I am. But I was fool enough
to be mad without any good reason--you understand I am not saying
anything against him, Dorothy Fair--when I saw him with you at the
ball. He had a right to take anybody to the ball that he chose. It
was naught to me, but I was mad. I have a quick temper. And I started
home when that young man from Kingston offered to fiddle for the
dancing after you and Burr went out; and my brother Richard made me
take his knife for fear I might meet stragglers, and I had it open
under my cloak. And when I got to that lonely part of the road, after
the turn, I saw somebody coming, and I thought it was Burr. He walked
like him. And I looked away--I did not want to see his face; and when