"Then," said Peggy with the characteristic stamp of her foot, "then why say such hard things? I am not very old and I am not very wise; but I think—I hope—I can be trusted, and I know I love thee dearly, and would lay down my life to serve thee."
"Faithful little heart!" he murmured.
"But tell me," she said, speaking softly, as one does to those in trouble,—"tell me what is this dark cloud which has fallen upon thee since thou didst come all smiles to lift me from my saddle this very day. Surely thou didst know of nothing then."
"No, a few short hours since I would have refused to change my lot with any man in the province,—a few short hours, yet they may suffice to blight a life."
"For the love of God, talk no more in riddles, but tell me plainly, what is it has changed thee so? Cheer up, dear heart, and do not talk as if thou didst stand accused of some terrible crime!"
"I do."
"For shame! 'tis no time for idle jesting."
"Never were words spoke less in lightness. If thou must have plainer speech, know that I, Christopher Neville, thy brother, stand accused of murdering yonder priest."
"What fools utter such imbecile slander?"
"Alas, they are no fools that utter, ay, and believe it."