"Not a prick; only a mighty satisfaction that the devil looks so well after his own—or—hold—art thou going to tell all this to God? For then I must say it all different."
"Speak truth! If anything could save thy guilty soul, 'twere that."
"Then if I'm damned for the business, I'll own that I was glad when I thought myself safe, glad when I saw this man, Neville, accused, glad when I saw him sink in the river yonder. There, go back and tell that to the devil, will you?"
"Faith, you can tell him soon enough yourself," muttered Neville, as he watched the laboring heart and the eye, which now glazed faster than ever.
"Is this all?"
It was Father White who spoke. Ingle pointed to Cecil, opened his lips, gasped out, "Elinor!" and fell back dead.
Father White lifted his eyes to heaven, praying:
"Judge him not according to his demerit, but through the infinite multitude of Thy mercies, and extend Thy grace and pardon in the name of Thy dear Son."
When he rose from his knees he turned and would have clasped Neville's hand, but he and Cecil had vanished together in the direction of Mistress Calvert's cottage.