suffer here a little pain, than burn eternally. Confess, or I will send you into the world beyond." She was quiet for a moment, desisting from her useless struggle.
"You will release me if I say?"
"I will do so."
"He was a wonderfully handsome man then, a very fine fellow, the handsomest I ever saw."
"Who was he?"
"There were others besides me lost their hearts to him."
"Who was he?"
"I hear voices below the house. People are coming. You will be taken and hung because you killed him."
"Who was he?"
Saltren did not move a muscle. "Let them come, and they will find you dead also, beside him."
"You cannot judge of what he was by what he is now."
"His name?"
Again she looked to right and left, in spite of the grip under her chin, and made a start to escape, but instantly he tightened the kerchief and she became red as blood.
"Marianne," said Saltren. "His name?"
He relaxed the pressure. She listened, no—she heard no voices, only mingled cawing of rooks and thumping of pulses in her ears.
"If you must know?"
"I must."
"It was—Samuel Ceely."
