had not fully broken till I turned and saw, standing by the fire, George
Manners, with his hands and coat dabbled with blood. I did not speak or
scream; but a black horror seemed to settle down like mist upon me.
Through it came Mr. Manners' voice (I had not looked again at him)--

"Miss Dorothy Lascelles, why do you not ask who did it?"

I gave a sharp cry, and one of the labourers who had helped to bring
Edmund in said gravely--

"Eh, Master! the less you say the better. God forgive you this
night's work!"

George's hoarse voice spoke again.

"Do you hear him?" and then it faltered a little--"Dorolice, do you
think this?"

It was his pet name for me (he was an Italian scholar), and touched me
inexpressibly, and a conviction seized upon me that if he had done it,
he would not have dared to appeal to my affection. I tried to clear my
mind that I might see the truth, and then I looked up at him. Our eyes
met, and we looked at each other for a full minute, and I was content.
Oh! there are times when the instinctive trust of one's heart is, so far
more powerful than any proofs or reasons, that faith seems a higher
knowledge. I would have pledged ten thousand lives, if I had had them,
on the honesty of those eyes, that had led me like a will-o'-the-wisp in
the ball-room half a year ago! The new-year's dance came back on me as I
stood there--my ball-dress was in the drawer up-stairs--and now! oh
dear! was I going mad?