answered imperatively. "You, then, have not forgiven him? Yet
I forgive him, who have lost most."

"You!" she exclaimed, with a sudden outburst of passion. "You have lost
a few thousand pounds; but what have I lost? My faith and trust in
goodness; my husband's love and care. I have lost him, the father of my
children, my home--nay, even myself. I am no longer what I thought I
was. That is what Roland robs me of; and you say it is more for you to
forgive than for me!"

He had never seen her thus moved and vehement, and he shrank a little
from it, as most men shrink from any unusual exhibition of emotion.
Though she had not wept, he was afraid now of a scene, and hastened to
speak of another subject.

"Well, well," he said soothingly, "that is all true, no doubt. Poor
Roland! But I am your husband's executor and the children's guardian,
conjointly with yourself. It will be proved immediately, and I shall
take charge of your affairs."

"I thought," she answered, in a hesitating manner, "that there was
nothing left, that we were ruined and had nothing. Why did Roland take
your bonds if he had money? Why did he defraud other people? There
cannot be any money coming to me and the children, and why should the
will be proved?"

"My dear girl," he said, "you know nothing about affairs. Your uncle,
Lord Riversford, would never have allowed Roland to marry you without a
settlement, and a good one too. His death was the best thing for you. It
saves you from poverty and dependence, as well as from disgrace. I
hardly know yet how matters stand, but you will have little less than a
thousand a year. You need not trouble yourself about these matters;
leave them to me and Lord Riversford. He called upon me yesterday, as
soon as he heard the sad news, and we arranged everything."

Felicita did not hear his words distinctly, though her brain caught
their meaning vaguely. She was picturing herself free from poverty,
surrounded with most of her accustomed luxuries, and shielded from every
hardship, while Roland was homeless and penniless, cast upon his own
resources to earn his daily bread and a shelter for every night, with
nothing but a poor handicraft to support him. She had not expected this
contrast in their lot. Poverty had seemed to lie before her also. But
now how often would his image start up before her as she had seen him
last, gaunt and haggard, with rough hair and blistered skin serving him
as a mask, clad in coarse cloth