"I want no assurances," he said. "I do not even want you to tell me of your innocence. I know it; and all these people, who have heard you falsely accused, shall hear justice done if God grant me life and strength to do it." He smiled for the first time—a quiet, grave smile which irradiated all his face. "I do not even know your name," he said; "but I know that you are innocent."
Miss Charlotte, white and subdued, came up and took the girl's hand.
Elsa moved slightly, as if she were dreaming, and then smiled back into Percivale's eyes, a smile of perfect trust, as though an angel had appeared to champion her.
It was her only leave-taking: she never spoke; but, turning, walked through the assembled peasants with a mien as dignified, as consciously noble, as that of Marie-Antoinette at her trial.
"They can take our fly—I am going along the cliffs to find my boy," said Mrs. Orton, with a burst of tears.
Her husband and Claud followed the three ladies to the carriage. Henry Fowler was left face to face with the stranger.
"God help us," he said, brokenly. "What is to be done?"
"The first thing," said Percivale, quietly, "is to decide whether the boy found by my crew is the brother of Miss—Miss——"
"Brabourne,—true. But he is only her half-brother."
"The next thing will be to prove——"