“She did not think so then, but she knows now. I will live to avenge her. I ask from Heaven no greater favor than that I may bring the murderer to justice. I shall do it, Ronald; a certain instinct tells me so. When I do, I shall show him no mercy; he showed none to her. If the mother who bore him knelt at my feet and asked me to have pity on him, I would not. If the child who calls him father clung round my neck and prayed me with tears and asked for mercy, I would show none.”
“Nor would I,” said Sir Ronald. Then Kenelm Eyrle bent down over the dead body.
“Good-by, my love,” he said, “until eternity; good-by.”
With reverent hands he drew the white lace round her, and left her to the deep, dreamless repose that was never more to be broken.
He went downstairs with Sir Ronald, but he did not enter the library again.
“I am going home,” he said. “I shall not intrude any longer, Ronald.”
“You will come to-morrow?” said Sir Ronald, as Kenelm stood at the hall door.
“Yes, I will pay her that mark of respect,” he said, “and I will live to avenge her.”
So they parted, and Sir Ronald, going back to the old seat in the library, remained there until morning dawned.