"Is he dead? Alas! Alas! Such a happy, handsome youth. It is incredible," said Lady Jevery.
"I thought he had run away to the Americas with your gold and my aunt's jewels," said Matilda.
"I wronged him, I wronged him grievously," answered Sir Thomas. "That wretch of a woman at The Hague never paid him a farthing, never even saw him. She intended to rob me and slay him for a thousand pounds, but under question of the law she confessed her crime."
"I hope she is hung for it," said Lady Jevery.
"She is ruined, and in prison for life—but that brings not back poor Neville."
"What do you think has happened to him?"
"I think robbery and murder. Some one has known, or suspected, that he had treasure with him. He has been followed and assassinated, or he has fought and been killed. Somewhere within fifty miles of Paris he lies in a bloody, unknown grave; and little Jane Swaffham is slowly dying of grief and cruel suspense. She loves him, and they were betrothed."
There was a short silence, and then Matilda said, "Jane was not kind to poor Stephen. He loved her all his life, and yet she put Lord Neville before him. As for Neville, the nobility of the sword carry their lives in their hands. That is understood. Many brave young lords have gone out from home and friends these past years, and never come back. Is Neville's life worth more than my brother's life, than thousands of other lives? I trow not!"
But in the privacy of her room she could not preserve this temper. "I wonder if Rupert slew him," she muttered. And anon—
"He had money and jewels, and the King and his poverty-stricken court cry, 'Give, give,' constantly.