If it were so.... To go back to the world whence he came, with the injury he must do to others, and the punishment also that he must suffer, if he did not tell the truth about Billy! And Chaudiere, which, in spite of all, was beginning to have a real belief in him—where was his contempt for the world now!... And Rosalie, who trusted him—this new element rapidly grew dominant in his thoughts-to be the common criminal in her eyes!
His paleness gave way to a flush as like her own as could be.
“You mean me?” he asked quietly.
She had thought that his flush meant anger, and she was surprised at the quiet tone. She nodded assent. “For what crime?” he asked.
“For stealing.”
His heart seemed to stand still. Then, it had come in spite of all it had come. Here was his resurrection, and the old life to face.
“What did I steal?” he asked with dull apathy. “The gold vessels from the Catholic Cathedral of Quebec, after—after trying to blow up Government House with gunpowder.”
His despair passed. His face suddenly lighted. He smiled. It was so absurd. “Really!” he said. “When was the place blown up?”
“Two days before you came here last year—it was not blown up; an attempt was made.”
“Ah, I did not know. Why was the attempt made to blow it up?”