The Shadow of a Crime Part 65

Then he told her all; told her in a simple way, such as he believed would appeal to what he thought her simple nature; told her of the two trials and final conviction, and counselled her to bear her trouble with as stout a heart as might be.

"It will be ended in a week," he said, in closing his narrative; "and then, Heaven knows what next." Rotha stood speechless by the chair of the unconscious invalid, with a face more pale than ashes, and fingers clinched in front of her.

"It comes as a shock to you, Rotha, for you seemed somehow to love your poor father."

Still the girl was silent. Then w.i.l.l.y's sympathies, which had for two minutes been as unselfish as short-sighted, began to revolve afresh about his own sorrows.

"I can scarce blame you for what you did," he said; "no, I can scarce blame you, when I think of it. He was not your brother, as he was mine. You could know nothing of a brother's love; no, you could know nothing of that."

"What _is_ the love of a brother?" said Rotha.

w.i.l.l.y started at the unfamiliar voice.

"What would be the love of a world of brothers to such a love as _mine?_"

Then stepping with great gla.s.sy eyes to where w.i.l.l.y sat, the girl clutched him nervously and said, "I loved him."

w.i.l.l.y looked up with wonder in his face.

"Yes, I! You talk _your_ love; it is but a drop to the ocean I bear him. It is but a grain to the desert of love in my heart that shall never, never blossom."

"Rotha!" cried w.i.l.l.y, in amazement.

"Your love! Why look you, under the wing of death--now that I may never hope to win him--I tell you that I love Ralph."

"Rotha!" repeated w.i.l.l.y, rising to his feet.

"Yes, and shall love him when the gra.s.s is over him, or me, or both!"

"Love him?"

"To the last drop of my blood, to the last hour of my life, until Death's cold hand lies chill on this heart, until we stand together where G.o.d is, and all is love for ever and ever, I tell you I love him, and shall love him, as G.o.d Himself is my witness."

The girl glowed with pa.s.sion. Her face quivered with emotion, and her upturned eyes were not more full of inspiration than of tears.

w.i.l.l.y sank back into his seat with a feeling akin to awe.

"Let it be so, Rotha," he said a moment later; "but Ralph is doomed.

Your love is barren; it comes too late. Remember what you once said, that death comes to all." "But there is something higher than death and stronger," cried Rotha, "or heaven itself is a lie and G.o.d a mockery. No, they shall not die, for they are innocent."

"Innocence is a poor shield from death. It was either father or Ralph," replied w.i.l.l.y, "and for myself I care not which."

Then at a calmer moment he repeated to her afresh the evidence of the young woman Rushton, whom she and her father had housed at Fornside.

"You are sure she said 'fifty yards to the _north_ of the bridge'?"

interrupted Rotha.

"Sure," said w.i.l.l.y; "Ralph raised a question on the point, but they flung it aside with contempt."

"Robbie Anderson," thought Rotha. "What does Robbie know of this that he was forever saying the same in his delirium? Something he _must_ know. I shall run over to him at once."

But just then the two officers of the sheriff's court arrived again at Shoulthwaite, and signified by various forms of freedom and familiarity that it was a part of their purpose to settle there until such time as judgment should have taken its course, and left them the duty of appropriating the estate of a felon in the name of the crown.

"Come, young mistress, lead us up to our room, and mind you see smartly to that breakfast. Alack-a-day; we're as hungry as hawks."

"You come to do hawks' business, sir," said Rotha, "in spoiling another's nest."

"Ha! ha! ha! happy conceit, forsooth! But there's no need to glare at us like that, my sharp-witted wench. Come, lead on, but go slowly, there. This leg of mine has never mended, bating the scar, since yonder unlucky big brother of yours tumbled me on the mountains."

"He's not my brother."

"Sweetheart, then, ey? Why, these pa.s.sages are as dark as the grave."

"I wish they were as silent, and as deep too, for those who enter them."

"Ay, what, Jonathan? Grave, silent, deep--but then you would be buried with us, my pretty la.s.sie."

"And what of that? Here's your room, sirs. Peradventure it will serve until you take every room." "Remember the breakfast," cried the little man, after Rotha's retreating figure. "We're as hungry as--as--"

"Hold your tongue, and come in, David. Brush the mud from your pantaloons, and leave the girl to herself."

"The brazen young noddle," muttered David.

It was less than an hour later when Rotha, having got through her immediate duties, was hastening with all speed to Mattha Brander's cottage. In her hand, tightly grasped beneath her cloak, was a bunch of keys, and on her lips were the words of the woman's evidence and of Robbie's delirium. "It was fifty yards to the north of the bridge."

This was her sole clew. What could she make of it?

CHAPTER XLIV. THE CLEW DISCOVERED.

An hour before Rotha left Shoulthwaite, Robbie Anderson was lying on a settle before the fire in the old weaver's kitchen. Mattha himself and his wife were abroad, but Liza had generously and courageously undertaken the task of attending to the needs of the convalescent.

"Where's all my hair gone?" asked Robbie, with a puzzled expression.

He was rubbing his close-cropped head.

Liza laughed roguishly.

"Maybe it's fifty yards north of the bridge," she said, with her head aside.

Robbie looked at her with blank amazement.

"Why, who told you that, Liza?" he said.

"Told me what?"

"Ey? _That!_" repeated Robbie, no more explicit.