Another man in the hall shared the wish of Captain Cornwaleys. As Peggy passed Huntoon she felt her hand grasped, and held in a strong, heartening clasp. "Courage!" Romney whispered. "We are not yet at the end. Much may still come to pass in our favor." Peggy's heart rose at the word "our."
"But the blood," she murmured. "I believe it was the priest's revenge for the quarrel he had with Kit." The girl shared the superstition of the age, and it seemed to her that some supernatural and malign agency was working against Christopher.
"Nay," answered Romney, "else how account for this?" and he held up his own hand scarred from joint to the joining of the wrist. "'Twas from the same edge of the crucifix I got the scratch as I watched by the corpse last night, and leaned over to set the candles at the head straighter in their sockets. No, no, Peggy! it will not do to lose heart now. We must think of nothing but how we can help your brother,—clear him if we can; save him if we cannot clear him."
The contagion of hopefulness spread to Peggy's sorrowing little soul, and with it came a blessed sense of having a firm support at hand to lean upon, let the winds of adversity blow as they would. The firm arm and brave heart and ready, resourceful wit were all hers for the asking; nay, were themselves pleading with her to be allowed to spend their life in her service, and she had flouted them and their owner but three days since,—yes, and answered the proffer of honest love by a slap in the face from an evergreen bough!
It would seem by all the laws of psychology that this angry humility and consciousness of her own errors should have made pretty Peggy more tolerant of the mistakes and shortcomings of others; but by a strange revulsion, as she drew near the corner where Elinor Calvert sat gazing into vacancy as if turned to stone by the sight of the gorgon's head, her anger swiftly changed its object. Slowly and somewhat scornfully Peggy looked her over from head to foot.
"Do you believe this calumny?" she asked.
No answer from lips or eyes.
"Oh, shame!" cried the girl. "I can bear it for the rest; but that you, who have known him half his life, you whom he loved, nay worshipped, putting you well nigh in the place of God above, that you should condemn him—oh, it is too much! Thank God he still has me to love and cling to him!"
Slowly the stony face relaxed, the fixed eyes began to see things once more, but the voice was still dim and distant as Elinor answered,—