“As yet he hath told us nothing,” replied the Knight, ambiguously.
“Then all is yet right!” cried the lady, from an energetic impulse of satisfaction, which she could not control.
“What is right?” demanded Sir Walter, sternly.
“I would say that—that—that if the boy hath confessed no evil, then ’tis most likely that no evil hath been done.”
“Yea,” replied Sir Walter, gravely, and with deep feeling, “but the direst evil hath been done—a deed which is hardly to be matched in cruelty—the firing of the house, and the burning to death of an innocent lady and her woman!”
“An innocent lady!” exclaimed his wife, again forgetting herself for a moment. “But thou canst not suspect this boy of having done so foul a deed?”
“Most strongly do I suspect him,” replied Sir Walter.
“Nay, nay, ’tis impossible,” said the lady. “What could prompt him to so horrible an act?”
“What could prompt him!” exclaimed Sir Walter, “nothing, methinks, in his own bosom; but canst thou not guess who could have prompted him?”
“Nay, nay, how could I guess?” said the lady, in great trepidation.