between her sobs, "how heartless you
are! I will never believe they will convict him. He is innocent, and his
innocence will come to light."

"I think the light will not be suffered to fall upon it," said the duke.

Afterwards, years afterwards, Fay remembered that conversation with
wonder that its significance had escaped her. But at the time she could
see nothing, feel nothing except her own anguish.

She left her husband's room. There was no help or sympathy in him. She
went back to her own room and flung herself face downwards on her bed.
Let no one think she did not suffer.

A faint ray of comfort presently came to her at the thought that
Michael's innocence might after all come to light. It might be proved in
spite of himself.

She would pray incessantly that the real murderer might give himself up,
or that suspicion should fall on him, and he should be dragged to
justice. And then, if--_after all_--Michael were convicted and his life
endangered, then she _must_ speak. But--not till then. Not now when all
might yet go well without her confession.... And it was not as if she
were guilty of unfaithfulness. She had not done anything wrong beyond
imprudence. Yes, she had certainly been imprudent; that she saw. But she
had done nothing _wrong_. It could not be right to confess to what in
public opinion amounted to unfaithfulness on her part, and dishonourable
conduct on his, when it was not so. They were both innocent. It would be
telling a lie to let anyone think either of them could be guilty of such
a sordid crime. It looked sordid now. Why should she drag down his name
with hers into the mud--unless it were absolutely necessary.... And she
must remember how distressed Michael would be if she said a word, if she
flung her good name from her, which he had risked all to save. Some
semblance of calm returned to her, as she thus reached the only
conclusion which the bias of her mind would permit. The stream ran
docilely in the little groove cut out for it.

During the days and weeks that followed Fay shut herself up, and prayed
incessantly for Michael.

She prayed all through the interminable interval before the trial.

"If it goes against him, I will speak," she said.

Yet all the time Michael who loved her knew that she would not speak.
Her husband who could have loved her, and who watched her struggle with
compassion, knew that she would not speak. Only Fay who did not know
herself believed that she would