Dora made no reply. In spite of his asseverations of , she saw that he felt himself in a trap. His face, his wild eyes, his trembling hands--all these signs hinted at a of his helpless position. Week by week since that fatal conversation he had grown thinner and more haggard. He was the shadow of the lover who had met her by the wayside when she had taken him to see Edermont. He looked round the room, as though searching for some means of escape. One would have thought that the officers of the law were already at the door, and that he was guilty. Dora knew that this was not the case, but could not be sure until she heard his explanation. Suddenly he threw up his hands with a gesture of despair.  
"I was mad on that night," he said in a tone.
 
Dora drew back with a . Was he about to confess to the crime and temporary by way of excuse? A violent trembling seized all her limbs, and she was obliged to lean against the table while waiting for his next words.
 
"You say Joad saw me?" he asked, looking at her. "Joad can denounce me?"
 
"No," she murmured, "he will not denounce you."
 
"But why should he show me such mercy?" cried Allen with haggard surprise. "He admires you; he is jealous of me. To get rid of me he would willingly place a round my neck."
 
"That is true, Allen. But--you are safe from him. He--he has asked me to be his wife."
 
"Ah!" said he, jealously seizing her hands. "And you--you---- No!" He tossed her hands away. "You could never bring yourself to marry that , even for fifty thousand pounds."
 
"He does not wish for that money," said Dora, with a calmness which surprised herself; "he wants me."
 
"Like his ! Of course you told him that such a thing was impossible!"
 
Dora raised her eyes to his with a look of pain.
 
"How could I?" she said slowly. "He saw you at the Red House on that night."
 
"Dora"--Allen again seized her hands--"you are sacrificing yourself to save me?"
 
"I can do no less, Allen. I love you. Ah!" she cried, with a burst of tears, "you will never know how I love you. I have suffered from your cruelty, your desertion, from your strange silence, but I still love you, as I have always done. As I cannot be your wife and make you happy, I can still marry this man and save you from the consequences of your crime."
 
"Dora! You do not believe that I am guilty?"
 
"No, Allen, no; still, I cannot understand. You have refused me your confidence; you say you were mad on that night. Morally speaking, you are innocent, I am certain. But still, in a moment of anger----"
 
"I swear that I did not touch him!" cried Allen violently. "I admit that I was at the Red House on that night. He asked me to come."
 
"I guessed that. Joad posted a letter to you."
 
"Yes, yes. Wait!" He ran into the next room, wherein his desk was , and in two minutes he returned with a paper. "This is his letter. You see, Edermont asked me to come at midnight to the Red House--to enter by the postern gate, which he left open for my admittance."
 
"He wished to add something to the conversation of the week before," said Dora, reading the letter. "But, my poor Allen, this letter rather than saves you. It shows that you had an appointment at the Red House at midnight. And Mr. Edermont was killed at one o'clock."
 
"I don't know at what hour he was killed," rejoined Allen, taking back the letter with a gloomy air. "As I told you, I was mad on that night. I lost all idea of time. Whether I was in his study at twelve or one I cannot say, but when I did enter I saw him dead."
 
"Allen!" Dora uttered a cry of horror. "You saw him dead?"
 
"He was lying on the floor near the bureau," said Scott, speaking rapidly. "I see him now in my mind's eye--a limp heap, with his white hair dappled with blood. The Zulu club, torn from the weapons which decorated the walls, lay near him; his pistol was on the other side. He was dead--dead! Ah God, dead!"
 
During this Dora had sunk into a chair, overcome by the of his words. Allen strode to and fro, swinging his long arms, with a look of horror on his worn, white face. He pressed his hands to his eyes, as if to shut out the scene which his too vivid fancy had painted. Half swooning, Dora uttered a , and the next moment Allen was on his knees beside her, covering her hands with and burning kisses.
 
"My queen! my saint!" he said hurriedly; "and you would sacrifice yourself for me. You would marry this drunkard, this , this , to save me from danger! No, Dora. No, I have been weak and foolish, but I am not guilty--I swear that I am not guilty. You shall not shield me at the cost of your own ruin. Oh, if I could only tell you all! But I dare not, I dare not!"
 
Carried away by his passion, angered at the sense of his weakness, he could have kissed her feet. But Dora placed her hand on his forehead and reasoned calmly with him. He was not to be saved by giving way to such whirlwinds of passion and despair. The was terrible, but they must both face it boldly. Allen was innocent. He said so, and she believed him. That was everything. If he were not guilty, they might find a way out of the trap into which he had stumbled. To do so, she must know exactly what took place on that fatal night, and to this end she addressed her lover.
 
"Allen," she said gravely, "this is not the way to save yourself from arrest, or me from a disgraceful marriage. I have obtained a week's time from Joad to think matters over. In seven days we can do a great deal, and we may see a way out of this terrible situation. Sit down beside me, and tell me exactly what you did on that night."
 
"I shall not sit down beside you, Dora. I shall remain here at your feet. Ah, Heaven! to think of that cruel bar which prevents our marriage! You should know all, but I have not the courage to tell you."
 
"Keep silent on that point," said Dora . "What I want to know now is the story of that night. You returned from London on the second, did you not?"
 
"Yes," he replied in a tired voice. "In that conversation I had with Edermont he made certain statements which I could not believe. He said I could verify them in London, and told me how and where I could do so. I could not rest until I knew the truth, therefore I caught the express at Selling and went to town. , alas! I found that he had spoken only too truly, and that you could never be my wife."
 
Repressing the curiosity which her to learn the terrible secret of which he , Dora smoothed his ............