“On the following morning by daylight I went down to the pond, the scene of the previous night.  A few stragglers were already there.  As we were looking about and talking, I saw on the very brink of the pond, partially hidden in the grass—­in fact trodden into it, as it seemed to me—­a glove.  I picked it up, and was on the point of calling out that I had found a glove, when it struck me that the glove was yours.  The others had seen me stoop, and one of them asked if I had found anything.  I said ‘No.’  I had crushed the glove in my hand, and presently I transferred it to my pocket.”

“Your motive being good-nature to me?” interrupted Lionel.

“To be sure it was.  To have shown that as Lionel Verner’s glove, would have fixed the affair on your shoulders at once.  Why should I tell?  I had been in scrapes myself.  And I kept it, saying nothing to anybody.  I examined the glove privately, saw it was really yours, and, of course, I drew my own conclusions—­that it was you who had been in the quarrel, though what cause of dispute you could have with Rachel, I was at a loss to divine.  Next came the inquest, and the medical men’s revelation at it:  and that cleared up the mystery, ‘Ho, ho,’ I said to myself, ’so Master Lionel can do a bit of courting on his own account, steady as he seems.’  I——­”

“Did you assume I threw her into the pond?” again interposed Lionel.

“Not a bit of it.  What next, Lionel?  The ignoring of some of the Commandments comes natural enough to the conscience; but the sixth—­one does not ignore that.  I believed that you and Rachel might have come to loggerheads, and that she, in a passion, flung herself in.  I held the glove still in my pocket; it seemed to be the safest place for it; and I intended, before I left, to hand it over to you, and to give you my word I’d keep counsel.  On the night of the inquest, you were closeted in the study with Mr. Verner.  I chafed at it, for I wished to be closeted with him myself.  Unless I could get off from Verner’s Pride the next day, there would be no chance of my sailing in the projected ship—­where our passages had been already secured by Luke Roy.  By and by you came into the dining-room—­do you remember it?—­and told me Mr. Verner wanted me in the study.  It was just what I wanted; and I went in.  I shan’t forget my surprise to the last hour of my life.  His greeting was an accusation of me—­of me! that it was I who had played false with Rachel.  He had proof, he said.  One of the house-girls had seen one of us three young men coming from the scene that night—­and he, Stephen Verner, knew it could only be me.  Fred was too cautious, he said; Lionel he could depend upon; and he bitterly declared that he would not give me a penny piece of the promised money, to take me on my way.  A pretty state of things, was it not, Lionel, to have one’s projects put an end to in that manner?  In my dismay and anger, I blurted out the truth; that one of us might have been seen coming from the scene, but it was not myself; it was Lionel; and I took the glove out of my pocket and showed it to him.”