“Get upon your feet, Potts.  Never kneel to any man.  To do so is to degrade yourself and the man to whom you kneel.  Get up, before I speak another word to you,” said the duke.

The miserable creature struggled to his feet and stood leaning against the bulwarks of the bridge, for support.

“Now, then, if you are not guilty, if your conscience acquits you in the sight of Heaven of all complicity in your late master’s death, why should you feel and show such extreme distress—­distress that has worn your frame to a skeleton, and stricken your life with old age?” gravely demanded the duke.

“Why?—­oh, your grace!  I loved my master as a son his father!  He was more like a father than a master to me.  And he was cut off suddenly by a bloody death!  In the midst of my grief for his loss I was arrested and accused of murdering him—­my beloved master.  I have seen the gallows looming before me for the last three months.  I have been shut in prison, with no companions but my own awful thoughts.  I have been put on trial for my life.  And though the jury could not convict me, it would not acquit me! though I am set at large for the present, I am subject to re-arrest and trial for death, if new evidence, however false, should arise against me.  Meanwhile, no one believes me innocent.  All believe me guilty.  No one will ever speak to me.  They made the inn too hot to hold me.  My life is ruined—­my heart is broken!  Is not all that enough, lord duke, to have worn my body to a skeleton and turned my hair gray, without remorse of conscience?” impetuously demanded the man.

“No, Potts, it is not.  Nothing but remorse, it seems to me, could so reduce a man,” gravely replied the duke.

“Oh, your grace! you still believe me guilty of my good master’s murder!” passionately exclaimed the man.  “Ah, Heaven! what will become of me?  I shall die unless I can have the stay of some one’s faith in me!”

“Potts,” said the duke, in a softened tone, “I do not now think that you had any active or conscious share in the foul murder of Sir Lemuel Levison.  But not the less do I see that you are suffering from remorse. You are still keeping something back from me!” he added, very solemnly.

The valet groaned, but made no answer.

“That is the reason why I have no confidence in you,” said his grace.

The valet wrung his gaunt hands, but continued silent.

“Now I do not ask you to confide in me; but I will give you this warning—­so long as you hold in your bosom a secret which, if revealed, would bring the real criminal to justice, so long you will yourself remain the object of suspicion from others and the victim of remorse in yourself.  Now, Potts, I must leave you; for I must get to Lone in time to catch the London express.  Good-night,” said the duke, as he moved away.

“One moment more, oh, my lord duke! for the love of Heaven!  One moment to do a piece of justice,” pleaded the ex-valet, tottering after the young nobleman.