rembling. His very teeth chattered.

Nicholas came in to know if he would sup. He answered unsteadily that
despite the lateness of the hour he would await Sir Oliver's return.

"Is Sir Oliver abroad?" quoth the servant in surprise.

"He went out a moment since, I know not whither," replied Lionel. "But
since he has not supped he is not like to be long absent."

Upon that he dismissed the servant, and sat huddled there, a prey to
mental tortures which were not to be repressed. His mind would turn upon
naught but the steadfast, unwavering affection of which Sir Oliver ever
had been prodigal towards him. In this very matter of Peter Godolphin's
death, what sacrifices had not Sir Oliver made to shield him? From so
much love and self-sacrifice in the past he inclined to argue now that
not even in extreme peril would his brother betray him. And then that
bad streak of fear which made a villain of him reminded him that to
argue thus was to argue upon supposition, that it would be perilous to
trust such an assumption; that if, after all, Sir Oliver should fail him
in the crucial test, then was he lost indeed.

When all is said, a man's final judgment of his fellows must be based
upon his knowledge of himself; and Lionel, knowing himself incapable of
any such sacrifice for Sir Oliver, could not believe Sir Oliver capable
of persisting in such a sacrifice as future events might impose. He
reverted to those words Sir Oliver had uttered in that very room two
nights ago, and more firmly than ever he concluded that they could have
but one meaning.

Then came doubt, and, finally, assurance of another sort, assurance that
this was not so and that he knew it; assurance that he lied to himself,
seeking to condone the thing he did. He took his head in his hands and
groaned loud. He was a villain, a black-hearted, soulless villain! He
reviled himself again. There came a moment when he rose shuddering,
resolved even in this eleventh hour to go after his brother and save him
from the doom that awaited him out yonder in the night.

But again that resolve was withered by the breath of selfish fear.
Limply he resumed his seat, and his thoughts took a fresh turn. They
considered now those matters which had engaged them on that day when
Sir Oliver had ridden to Arwenack to claim satisfaction of Sir John
Killigrew. He realized again that Oliver being removed, what he now
enjoyed by his brother's bounty he would enjoy henceforth in his own
u