ublic trial and conviction, and though suspicion might always rest upon
his memory, he would not be remembered for long. Justice would be
defrauded, yet on the whole I should rejoice for your sake to hear that
he was dead."

Felicita's lips almost echoed the words. Her heart did so, though it
smote her as she recollected his passionate love for her. But Mr.
Clifford's speech sank deeply into her mind, and she brooded over it
incessantly. Roland's death meant honor and fair fame for herself and
her children; his life was perpetual shame and contempt to them.

It was soon settled that they must quit Riversborough; but though
Felicita welcomed the change, and was convinced it would be the best
thing to do, Madame grieved sorely over leaving the only home which had
been hers, except the little manse in the Jura, where her girlhood had
passed swiftly and happily away. She had brought with her the homely,
thrifty ways in which she had been trained, and every spot in her
husband's dwelling had been taken under her own care and supervision.
Her affections had rooted themselves to the place, and she had never
dreamed of dying anywhere else than among the familiar scenes which had
surrounded her for more than thirty years. The change too could not be
made without her consent, for her marriage settlement was secured upon
the house, and her husband had left to her the right of accepting or
refusing a tenant. To leave the familiar, picturesque old mansion, and
to carry away with her only a few of the household treasures, went far
to break her heart.

"It is where my husband intended for me to live and die," she moaned to
Phebe Marlowe; "and, oh, if I go away I can never fancy I see him
sitting in his own chair as he used to do, at the head of the table, or
by the fire. I have not altogether lost him, though he's gone, as long
as I can think of how he used to come in and go out of this room, always
with a smile for me. But if I go where he never was, how can I think I
see him there? And my son will be angry if we go; he will come back, and
clear up all this mystery, and he will think we went away because we
thought he had done evil. Ought we not to come home again after we have
been to Scarborough?"

"I think Mrs. Sefton will die if she stays here," said Phebe. "It is
necessary for her to make this change; and you'd rather go with her and
the children than live here alone without them."

"Oh, yes, yes!" answered Madame; "I canno