?'

'Just so, Mr. Bolton. If they will accept the truth now, I shall be
satisfied.'

'It will come, but perhaps slowly to some folk. You should in justice
remember that your own early follies have tended to bring this all
about.'

It was a grim welcome, and the last speech was one which Caldigate
found it difficult to answer. It was so absolutely true that it admitted
of no answer. He thought that it might have been spared, and shrugged
his shoulders as though to say that that part of the subject was one
which he did not care to discuss. Hester heard it, and quivered with
anger even in her mother's arms. Mrs. Bolton heard it, and in the midst
of her kisses made an inward protest against the word used. Follies
indeed! Why had he not spoken out the truth as he knew it, and told the
man of his vices?

But it was necessary that she too should address him. 'I hope I see you
quite well, Mr. Caldigate,' she said, giving him her hand.

'The prison has not disagreed with me,' he said, with an attempt at a
smile, 'though it was not an agreeable residence.'

'If you used your leisure there to meditate on your soul's welfare, it
may have been of service to you.'

It was very grim. But the banker having made his one severe speech,
became kind in his manner, and almost genial. He asked after his
son-in-law's future intentions, and when he was told that they thought
of spending some months abroad so as to rid themselves in that way of
the immediate record of their past misery, he was gracious enough to
express his approval of the plan; and then when the lunch was announced,
and the two ladies had passed out of the room, he said a word to his
son-in-law in private. 'As I was convinced, Mr. Caldigate, when I first
heard the evidence, that that other woman was your wife, and was
therefore very anxious to separate my daughter from you, so am I
satisfied now that the whole thing was a wicked plot.'

'I am very glad to hear you say that, sir.'

'Now, if you please, we will go in to lunch.'

As long as Caldigate remained in the house Mrs. Bolton was almost
silent. The duties of a hostess she performed in a stiff ungainly way.
She asked him whether he would have hashed mutton or cold beef, and
allowed him to pour a little sherry into her wine-glass. But beyond this
there was not much conversation. Mr. Bolton had said what he had to say,
and sat leaning forward with his chin over his plate perfectly silent.
It is to be supposed th