"And when he is found neither he nor his sister shall escape. If the
law lets them clear, _we_ won't. The time when rank could shield crime
is over, thank Heaven. Let them hang as high as Haman--they deserve
it. I'll be the first to pull the rope."

Day-by-day, the feeling had grown stronger and bitterer, against
brother and sister. The Englishman's proverbial love of "fair play,"
seemed for once forgotten. The merciful reasoning of the law, that
takes every man to be innocent until he is proven guilty, was too
lenient to be listened to. The brother had murdered her--the sister
had aided and abetted. Let them both hang--that was the _vox populi_
of Chesholm--hanging was too good for them.

"How did she take her arrest--she was always as proud as Lucifer and
as haughty as a duke's daughter?" asked the curious townfolk.

She had taken it very quietly as though she had expected it. When Lady
Helena and Sir Roger had cried out in horror at her arrest, she had
stood firm. A slight, sad smile had even crossed her lips.

"Dear Aunt Helena--dear Sir Roger," she had said, "there's nothing to
be surprised at. Don't interfere with this man; he is only doing his
duty. I knew this would come. I have expected it from the first. It
will be unpleasant for the time--of the result I have no fear. In
these days, when so many guilty escape, it is not likely the innocent
will be punished. Let me go with this man quietly, Aunt Helena; I," a
flush of proud pain passed over her face, "I don't want the
servants--I don't want the rabble to see me."

She held out her hand to her aunt, and her aunt's old friend.