Her face blanched at the mere possibility suggested by his words.  “But you are innocent!” she cried in swift protest, “and you could prove it, even were suspicion directed against you for a time.”

“Even admitting that I were, the taint of suspicion is sometimes as lasting as the stain of crime itself.”

She arose and stood proudly facing him.  “Do you think I would fear suspicion?  To hear from your own lips that you love me and that you are innocent would be enough for me; I would defy the whole world!”

He did not at once reply, and when he spoke it was slowly and reluctantly, as though each word were wrung from him by torture.

“My dear Miss Carleton, even to you I cannot say that I am innocent.”

There was a moment’s pause, during which she gazed at him, speechless with astonishment; a moment of intense agony to Harold Mainwaring, as he watched whether her faith in him would waver.  But she gave no sign, though she scanned his face, as the condemned criminal scans the document handed him as the fateful day approaches, to ascertain whether it contains his pardon or his death sentence.

“Understand me,” he said at last, gently, unable longer to endure the terrible silence, “I do not admit that I am in any way guilty, but until I am fully acquitted of any share in or knowledge of the death of Hugh Mainwaring, I can make neither denial nor admission, one way or the other.”

“But you still love me?” she inquired, calmly.

“Miss Carleton, — Winifred, — how can you ask?  You are, and always will be to me, the one, only woman upon earth.”

“That is sufficient,” she answered, with a strange, bright smile; “my faith in you is perfect, and faith and love can wait.”

“Wait, my love! until when?” he cried.

“If needful, until Eternity’s sunlight dispels Earth’s shadows!  Eternity holds ample compensation for all of Earth’s waiting.”

“But, my darling,” he said, half protesting, while he folded her to his breast, “you know not the risk you may be running; I cannot accept the sacrifice that may be involved.”

“My decision is taken, and it is irrevocable,” she answered, with an arch smile; then added, “There can be no barriers between us, Harold, for Love will find a way!”

CHAPTER XVIII

AN UNFORESEEN FOE

Though nearly six weeks had elapsed since the death of the master of Fair Oaks, and as yet no light had been shed on that mysterious event, the interest of the public mind in the affair had in no wise abated during this brief interim.  On the contrary, its curiosity had been so whetted by the partial revelations of the inquest, that it had eagerly followed each step of the legal proceedings leading towards the inevitable contest over the property, ready to hail with delight the appearance of the Mainwaring skeleton when it should step forth from its long hiding to disclose the secrets of the past.