your confession is to be of any avail to you, it must be complete,"
said Haldane gravely. "Of whose faces do you wish to be rid?"

"It's a woman and a child," said the man, his voice sinking lower every
time he spoke, yet it had a kind of angry ring in it, as if he appealed
indignantly against some injustice. "There were several more, and why
should these torment me? Nay, why should they haunt _me_ at all? I
only did my duty. There be other folks they should go to--them that
make such deeds duty. I'm not to blame--but I can't get rid of those
faces! Take them away, and I'll give you silver--gold--only take them
away!"

The probable solution of the puzzle struck Haldane as she sat there,
looking earnestly into the agitated features of her visitor.

"You must confess all," she said, "the names and every thing you know.
I go to mix a potion which may help you. Bethink you, till I come
again, of all the details of your sin, that you may speak honestly and
openly thereof."

And she passed behind the screen. One glance at the white face of the
girl lying there told Haldane that her guess was true. She knelt down,
and set her lips close to Ermine's ear.

"You know the voice," she whispered shortly. "Who is he?"

"The Bishop's sumner, who arrested us."

"And helped to thrust you forth at the gate?"

Ermine bowed her head. Haldane rose, and quickly mixing in a cup a
little of two strong decoctions of bitter herbs, she returned to her
visitor.

"Drink that," she said, holding out the cup, and as he swallowed the
bitter mixture, she muttered--

"Evil eye be stricken blind!
Cords about thy heart unwind!
Tell the truth, and shame the fiend!"

The sumner set down the cup with a wry face.

"Mother, I will confess all save the names, which I know not. I am
sumner of my Lord of Lincoln, and I took these German heretics four
months gone, and bound them, and cast them into my Lord's prison. And
on Sunday, when they were tried, I guarded them through the town, and
thrust them out of the East Gate. Did I do any more than my duty?
There were women and little children among them, and they went to
perish. They must all be dead by now, methinks, for no man would dare
to have compassion on them, and the bitter cold would soon kill men so
weak already with hunger. Yet they were heretics, accursed of God and
men: but their faces were like the faces of the angels that are in
Heaven. Two of those faces--a mot