“This stuff,” he said, “I know it, of course—grows up straight enough of itself. It wanted something human—or inhuman—to twist it round a leg in that fashion.”
I broke out with a choking cry.
“I did it,” I said; “but it wasn’t murder—oh, Jason, it wasn’t murder, as you mean it.”
He gave a little cold laugh.
“No doubt we have different standards of morality,” he said. “We won’t split hairs. Say it was murder as a judge and jury would view it.”
“It wasn’t! Will you believe me if I tell you the truth?”
“That depends upon the form it takes.”
“I’ll tell you. It is the truth—before God, it is the truth! I won’t favor myself. I had been mad with him, I own, but had nearly got over it. I was out all day on the hills and thought I should like a bathe on my way home. I went through the ‘run’ and saw he was there. At first I thought I would leave him to himself, but just as I was going he saw me and a grin came over his face and—Jason, you know that if I had gone away then, he would have thought me afraid to meet him.”
“You can leave me, Renalt, out of the question, if you please.”
“I meant no harm—indeed I didn’t—but when I got there he taunted and mocked at me. I didn’t know what I was doing; and when he jumped for the water I followed him and twisted that round. Then in a single moment I saw what I had done—and was mad to unfasten it. It would not come away at first, and when at last I got him free and to the shore he was insensible. If you could only know what I suffered then, you would pity me, Jason—you would; you could not help it.”