"Nothing more than usual," replied Mrs. Johnson, with another moan. "She was mostly in her bedroom attending to her clothes. I was quite angry at her, George; indeed I was, for the supper was behind, and she would not help. Indeed, no! After leaving her room, she sat in the parlour like a fine lady, talking to Miss Arnott."
"What!" cried Johnson, seizing on this admission, "was Miss Arnott here on that evening?"
"Didn't I tell you, George? No, of course I didn't. Miss Arnott asked me not to, as she did not wish you to know about her quarrel with Bithiah."
"You amaze me, mother. Why should Miss Arnott quarrel in my house?"
"Ah," moaned Mrs. Johnson, wagging her head over a potato, "Why, indeed! But the heart of man, and likewise woman, is bad and wicked. Miss Arnott and Bithiah quarrelled over you, my son."
Johnson looked at his mother in amazement. "Quarrelled over me?" he said blankly.
"They both loved you."
A bitter smile curved the minister's lips. "At least Bithiah did not," he said.
"Nonsense," replied Mrs. Johnson. "Why, she even struck Miss Arnott out of love for you. I am glad she's gone--but I'm sorry she's dead. I could not have my son marry a heathen; besides, she was most careless about housekeeping, too; you'd much better marry Miss Arnott, George. She's not young, but she's both rich and godly. She hated Bithiah."
Johnson waited to hear no more, but returned to his study. Miss Arnott loved him; she hated Bithiah. These words rang in his ears. A fresh thought was born of them, which he at first refused to entertain, but it forced itself upon him. It formed itself into a question--into a series of questions: Had Miss Arnott followed and strangled Bithiah? Was it Miss Arnott who had concealed the girl's body in the field? She had frequently been in his study; she had quarrelled with Bithiah on the very night of the latter's disappearance. So she might have stolen the cord and killed Tera.