He thought of how Rotha had stood over her father's prostrate form in the room of the village inn, and cried in her agony, "Tell them it is not true." Who could say what this paper might yet do for him and her?
Ralph put the warrant back, charred and crumbled, into the breast pocket of the jerkin he wore.
The burning of the paper had for a moment filled the chamber with light.

After the last gleam of it had died away, and the ash of the burnt portion lay in his palm, Ralph walked to the front window and looked out.

All was still.

Only the wind whistled.

How black against the moon loomed the brant walls of the Castle Rock across the vale! Turning about, Ralph re-covered the face and said, "Death is kindest; how could I look into this face alive ?" And the whisper of the old words came back once more: "The lofty looks of men shall be humbled, and the haughtiness of men shall be bowed down." Ralph walked to the window at the back and gently pushed it open.