"

"Indeed, I think you are right," agreed his brother with relief. "She
dare not for other reasons, when I come to think of it. Her reputation
is already such, and so well detested is she that were it known she had
been the cause, however indirect, of this, the countryside would satisfy
certain longings that it entertains concerning her. You are sure none
saw you either going or returning?"

"None."

Sir Oliver strode the length of the room and back, pulling at his pipe.
"All should be well, then, I think," said he at last. "You were best
abed. I'll carry you thither."

He took up his stripling brother in his powerful arms and bore him
upstairs as though he were a babe.

When he had seen him safely disposed for slumber, he returned below,
shut the door in the hall, drew up the great oaken chair to the fire,
and sat there far into the night smoking and thinking.

He had said to Lionel that all should be well. All should be well for
Lionel. But what of himself with the burden of this secret on his soul?
Were the victim another than Rosamund's brother the matter would have
plagued him but little. The fact that Godolphin was slain, it must be
confessed, was not in itself the source of his oppression. Godolphin had
more than deserved his end, and he would have come by it months ago at
Sir Oliver's own hand but for the fact that he was Rosamund's brother,
as we know. There was the rub, the bitter, cruel rub. Her own brother
had fallen by the hand of his. She loved her brother more than any
living being next to himself, just as he loved Lionel above any other
but herself. The pain that must be hers he knew; he experienced some of
it in anticipation, participating it because it was hers and because all
things that were hers he must account in some measure his own.

He rose up at last, cursing that wanton at Malpas who had come to fling
this fresh and terrible difficulty where already he had to face so many.
He stood leaning upon the overmantel, his foot upon one of the dogs
of the fender, and considered what to do. He must bear his burden in
silence, that was all. He must keep this secret even from Rosamund. It
split his heart to think that he must practise this deceit with her. But
naught else was possible short of relinquishing her, and that was far
beyond his strength.

The resolve adopted, he took up a taper and went off to bed.

CHAPTER V. THE BUCKLER

It was old Nicholas who brought the news next morn