right, and I will have every ounce of it. Do you doubt how God will
pronounce? I call upon him solemnly to pronounce between me and such an
one. If I am guilty of this thing may He wither my arm when I enter the
lists."

"Myself I will accuse you," came Rosamund's dull voice. "And if you
will, you may claim your rights against me and butcher me as you
butchered him."

"God forgive you, Rosamund!" said Sir Oliver, and went out.

He returned home with hell in his heart. He knew not what the future
might hold in store for him; but such was his resentment against
Rosamund that there was no room in his bosom for despair. They should
not hang him. He would fight them tooth and claw, and yet Lionel should
not suffer. He would take care of that. And then the thought of Lionel
changed his mood a little. How easily could he have shattered their
accusation, how easily have brought her to her proud knees imploring
pardon of him! By a word he could have done it, yet he feared lest that
word must jeopardize his brother.

In the calm, still watches of that night, as he lay sleepless upon his
bed and saw things without heat, there crept a change into his mental
attitude. He reviewed all the evidence that had led her to her
conclusions, and he was forced to confess that she was in some measure
justified of them. If she had wronged him, he had wronged her yet more.
For years she had listened to all the poisonous things that were said of
him by his enemies--and his arrogance had made him not a few. She had
disregarded all because she loved him; her relations with her brother
had become strained on that account, yet now, all this returned to crush