Yes, 'twas done with his own
gun--by accident--by accident! He stumbled, and the gun went off. That
was the story at the inquest. No one knew I was there. I was never seen
with him and I've never been sorry. He got what he deserved--sacre, yes!"
There was something overwhelming in the face of the little resolute,
powerful man. His eyes were aflame. He was telling for the first time the
story of his lifelong agony and shame.
"It had to be done. She was young, so sweet, so good, aye, she was
good-in her soul she was good, ah, surelee. That's why she died in the
pond. No one knew. The inquest did not bring out anything, but that's why
he died; and ever since I've been mourning; life has no rest for me. I'm
not sorry for what I did. I've told it you because you saved me years ago
when I fell down the bank. You were only fourteen then, but I've never
forgotten. And she, that sweet young lady, she--she was there too; and
now when I look at this Tarboe, the brother of that man, and see her and
know what I know--sacre!" He waved a hand. "No-no-no, don't think there's
anything except what's in the soul. That man has touched ma'm'selle--I
don't know why, but he has touched her heart. Perhaps by his great bulk,
his cleverness, his brains, his way of doing things.
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