and his voice came so low that the two women moved nearer to him and Rondelet watched the motion of his lips,—"Fernand Thoron, had died suddenly. After a time it was whispered that he had been killed in an affair of"—he hesitated—"in a duel; and again it was breathed that Philip Rondelet knew more of his death than any other man, save the dead man's brother and the physician who had been present, both of whom had left the country immediately after the affair. Then it gradually grew to be believed that the man had fallen by Philip's hand. This came to my ears many weeks ago; and I, who alone knew the truth, kept silent." He paused, as if for want of breath, and there followed a moment of silence, which seemed to his hearers of unendurable length. At last he went on: "I said to myself that I did not speak because the dead man's secret must be kept and the honor of another person whom I was bound to protect, spared. I know now that I lied to myself; that I was silent for fear that the blame should rest where it belonged,—upon the miserable head of the man who had killed one friend and was now betraying another." He looked now at Margaret only; with mournful, pleading eyes he spoke to her alone in a low, broken voice: "I kept silence; but the time has come for me to speak, to declare that Philip Rondelet came only
