"I started from the gate on a dead run, and before I had gone a hundred paces I found old Philpotts by my side. Hard by the Governor's Spring we met Claiborne with a gang of marauders, armed with cutlasses. One of them made at Philpotts and ran him through the throat, so the poor fellow fell without a groan, and the blood of his faithful heart flowed out into the spring. Heaven rest his soul for truer friend man never had."
"Faith, 'twas like to have fared no better with me; but that Neale and Ellyson and their following let drive at the invaders and drove them off, following them to keep them on the run. Only Claiborne stood his ground. Just as my sword touched him in the side, I heard him cry, 'Help, Ralph!' and turning I found myself face to face with Ingle, carrying Cecil in his arms; the poor child was screaming lustily."
"And fighting, Thir Chrithtopher. Say now, was I not scratching and biting valiantly?"
"That he was, and hath a handful of the pirate's hair as a keepsake. Just then Ingle caught sight of me, and 'twas as if he saw the Day of Judgment. 'So you 're come to take me to Hell, are you?' he said. With that he dropped Cecil, and ran at me with his cutlass, having no time to draw pistol. 'Twas scarce a fair fight, for I verily believe had he not been mastered by ghostly fear he would have finished me."
"Ay, and for a greater mercy than life. The wretch did make confession to Father White, and of what, thinkst thou?"
"Oh, Mother," cried Cecil, unable to curb his impatience another moment, "it was he who killed Father Mohl."
"Thou knowest? In God's name, how didst thou know?" Neville exclaimed.
Margaret Brent had entered unperceived, and now her questioning eyes said, "Who wore it?"
"Ralph Ingle, to-day, on his left arm, as if it were a badge to be proud of,--he, the man whose presence I tolerated, whose hateful love-making I permitted. Oh, Christopher, canst thou forgive me?"
"And canst thou forgive one who cannot lay claim to that mantle of love that covers all sins?"
It was the voice of Giles Brent, who had staggered to the door and stood leaning against the post, a new expression of humility on his proud face.
"Sir Christopher Neville," he went on, "I have been hopelessly wrong, honestly but fatally wrong, and I do most earnestly entreat you who have been so deeply injured to believe in the depth of my grief and repentance."