It was Peggy's turn to grow pale now. Here she had been laughing and lightly jesting while this tragedy was brushing her so closely with its sable wings.
"Master Neale," Huntoon said, turning to the Councillor, "you and Captain Cornwaleys are to follow this path till you find Governor Brent, and help him to lift the body of the priest to the donkey's back; Mistress Neville, you are to ride before Anne on her donkey here."
"Could I not be of use if I went too to the Governor?"
"Hast thou ever looked on death?"
"Never, to remember it. My mother died when I was a little child and my father at sea."
"Then do not look upon that corpse yonder. I have seen a dead baby and it looked like a waxen lily, and I have seen a man shot by an Indian's arrow and he looked grand and stern like a marble statue, but this priest was ghastly, horrible. No, I am sure the Governor would not wish you to see it. Mount, and we will ride on and prepare the household at St. Gabriel's."
When Romney had left him Giles Brent stooped over the body of the dead priest. "My God!" he murmured, "were not things in this unhappy colony tangled enough without this new trouble? There is a deviltry here that must be sifted to the bottom. We must mark this tree by which the corpse lies. The distance must be two miles from St. Gabriel's and within ten paces of the cross trail from the main path. If there is any clue we must follow it. There should be footsteps; but the fresh snow has covered them whichever way they turned. Death must have been mercifully swift from such a wound."
As if to put an end to these disconnected thoughts, he stooped and turned the body on its side. As he did so, something fell from the folds of the cloak. Giles Brent looked at it, studied it more closely with a gaze of fixed amazement, and then as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps slipped it into his pocket. But his face was ashen as he spoke to Neale, who was in advance.
"Come, Neale, do you lift on that side and I on this, while Cornwaleys may bind him to the saddle with the rope he will find in my saddle-bag. So—gently there—now steady him! Cornwaleys, take the bridle and lead on gently. Thank Heaven, the distance is short!"