re. "Then you do know! Everyone knows.
Naturally I am the last. You knew I connected that dreadful man long ago
with--with Ralph's death. I had good reason for doing so after--after I
had actually seen him on the verandah here that awful night. But--but
now it seems--because he and Everard have always been in
partnership--because they were both absent at the time of Ralph's death,
no one knew where--people are talking and saying--and saying--" She
broke off with a sharp, agonized sound. "I can't tell you what they are
saying!" she whispered.

"It is false!" said Bernard stoutly. "It's a foul lie of the devil's own
concocting! How long have you known of this? Who was vile enough to tell
you?"

"You knew?" she whispered.

"I never heard the thing put into words but I had my own suspicions of
what was going about," he admitted. "But I never believed it. Nothing on
this earth would induce me to believe it. You don't believe it, either,
child. You know him better than that."

She hid her face from him with a smothered sob. "I thought I did--once."

"You did," he asserted staunchly. "You do! Don't tell me otherwise, for
I shan't believe you if you do! What kind friend told you? I want to
know."

"Oh, it was only little Tessa. You mustn't blame her. She was full of
indignation, poor child. Her mother taunted her with it. You know--or
perhaps you don't know--what Netta Ermsted is."

Bernard's face was very grim as he made reply. "I think I can guess. But
you are not going to be poisoned by her venom. Why don't you tell
Everard, have it out with him? Say you don't believe it, but it hurts
you to hear a damnable slander like this and not be able to refute it!
You are not afraid of him, Stella? Surely you are not afraid of him!"

But Stella only hid her face a little lower, and spoke no word.

He laid his hand upon her as she sat. "What does that mean?" he said.
"Isn't your love equal to the strain?"

She shook her head dumbly. She could not meet his look.

"What?" he said. "Is my love greater than yours then? I would trust his
honour even to the gallows, if need be. Can't you say as much?"

She answered him with her head bowed, her words barely audible. "It
isn't a question of love. I--should always love him--whatever he did."

"Ah!" The flicker of a smile crossed Bernard's face. "That is the
woman's way. There's a good deal to be said for it, I daresay."

"Yes--yes." Quiveringly she made answer. "But--if this thi