"Was it?" said Herrick quietly. "And why did you do that."
"Because I was mad at the time?"
"Had you not better tell me the whole affair? Then I shall be in a position to judge of your madness."
Stephen was amazed at the calm way in which his friend took the intelligence. However he had gone so far that there was nothing left to do but to confess all as he had confessed to Bess. In a hurried manner the young man repeated the tale, and informed Herrick how Bess had found out the truth by means of the revolver. "And now you must despise me" was his final remark. He sunk into his chair with a groan.
Herrick paused for a moment to think. Then he carefully lighted his pipe. "I do not despise you by any manner of means," he said calmly, "but I must admit that I think you are quixotic."
The word--to Stephen's mind was so inapplicable to the situation that he looked up astonished, scarcely believing his ears. "Quixotic!" he repeated. "I do not quite see."
"Well," said Herrick nodding, "you see Mrs. Marsh is dead, so no harm can be done to her. It is good of you to screen her memory--"
"Stop! Stop! What do you mean Herrick?" cried the Squire much agitated.
"I mean that you have taken this guilt on your head to screen your step-mother's memory."
Stephen paused. Then he looked up resolutely. "Yes," he said, "I may tell you, if I tell no one else. It was my mother who fired those shots. Bess found out about my pistol which my mother used, so I took the blame on myself."