y this
time, and I think she liked me. She said she was ill and was afraid to
stay in Manchester any longer, and she asked me to go back to Brunford
with her."

"Yes, and you did, Mary."

"Yes, I did. And then I begged her to tell me the truth. I made her
see who I suspected."

"Yes, and then----" he whispered.

"I don't know what it was, whether it was the shock of my words, or
whether it was because she could no longer stand the strain she had
been suffering, but her senses forsook her, and--oh, Paul! forgive
me--but she's been ill ever since. She's had no knowledge of anything
that's been going on."

He was silent a moment, then he said: "It's best so, Mary. If she does
not know she cannot suffer, and no shame can attach to her name now."

"No, Paul; but I haven't told you all yet. It wasn't she who did it!
She was as ignorant of the crime as I was!"

"How? Tell me!" he almost gasped.

She related the story of what took place between her father and the man
Archie Fearn, while he, with hoarse whispers, besieged her with
questions.

"Thank God!" he said at length. It seemed as though a great burden had
gone from his life, and as though the only way in which he could
express his feelings was by thanking the Being in Whom he had said he
had no belief.

"Paul, could you have saved yourself if you had known this?"

"I don't know," he replied. "I might--that is--no, I don't know. I
went out that night to seek her, Mary. When I had told her of my
quarrel with Wilson, you remember, on the night of the murder, she
acted as though she were mad. She promised me I should be revenged,
that I should have justice. She said things which, when I began to
think about them afterwards, made me afraid. I thought she had gone to
bed, and I sat in my study for hours, alone, thinking and wondering.
Then, when I went to her room to bid her good night, I found she was
gone, and I went out to seek her. Undoubtedly it was a senseless thing
to do, because I had no knowledge of the direction in which she had
gone. She had, however, uttered one sentence which guided me: 'I am
going to Howden Clough,' she said. 'It's near there I shall see him.'"

For a long time they spoke in whispers, the warder standing as far away
from them as possible, and seemingly taking no notice.

"It's just as well, Mary," he said. "Perhaps I couldn't have saved
myself if I'd known; and it might be--yes, it might be that if I had
said wh