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But he called it by the hard name murder, and shuddered as
he thought of Grey.
"But he never will know," he said to himself, "Hannah will keep her
promise, and I do not fear Mr. Sanford, though I'd give half my
fortune--yes, all--if he had not been told. Grey will never know. But
_I_ know, and must meet his innocent eyes, and hear him talk of his
grandfather as of saint."
It was at this point in his soliloquy that Grey came slowly in, his face
whiter than his father's, with dark rings around his eyes, which were
heavy and swollen with the tears he had shed. Grey had not slept at all,
for the dreadful words, "I killed a man, and buried him under my bed,"
were continually ringing in his ears, while the ghost of the murdered
man seemed present with him, urging him to vengeance for the wrong,
until at last, when he could bear it no longer, he stretched his hands
out into the darkness, and cried:
"What is it you want with me? I am not to blame, but if there is any
thing I can do to make it right, I'll do it, when I am man.


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