bound to believe what I cannot disprove, and
what you so solemnly affirm. If there be no truth in your words, you may
yet repent having so solemnly sworn; but whether true or false, I can
never repent doing you an act of kindness."

Jones was invited into the house to rest--an invitation which he gladly
accepted. On entering the lobby, they were met by Miss Manners, who
started involuntarily on beholding the stranger; but instantly recovered
herself, and opened the door of the parlour for him to enter. The latter
bowed politely to her; and, blushing, she returned the salutation. Her
father desired her to walk in and set some wine upon the table, which
she did with alacrity and grace.

Miss Manners was a young lady of rather an eccentric disposition. She
was high-minded, and high-spirited, and not without a dash of romance.
She was, of course, familiar with the story of the murder, and knew
Jones well by sight. His appearance, which others regarded as at least
mysterious-looking, seemed, in her eyes, rather prepossessing than
otherwise; and when she heard the old women in the village imprecating
curses on his head, she had uniformly reproved them for judging without
adequate proof. On the present occasion, there was something in Jones'
looks and manner peculiarly calculated to confirm her good impression,
and engage her sympathy. His collar was loosened, and his dress a
good deal dashed by the rough treatment he had experienced; but the
expression of his countenance seemed to plead for compassion, and spoke
eloquently to her heart. She addressed him in a kindly tone of voice;
inquired what was the matter, and hoped that no accident had occurred.
The stranger put his hand to his brow, from which the blood had been
previously wiped, and turned towards the window; while her father
briefly explained the circumstances of their meeting, of the harsh
treatment to which Jones had been subjected, and of his own
interference.

"You did well father!" said the girl; "the people may be mistaken!"

"They _are_ mistaken!" said Jones, turning round with moist eyes. "I
know not why suspicion should have settled upon me. I led a quiet
life in the village, harming no one, offending no one; neither had I
exhibited any of those vices in which great crimes usually originate.
I was not cruel, revengeful, or choleric: least of all had I shown
unkindness to her whom they accuse me of having murdered. Lady, I cannot
expect that you will beli