. Don't
tell William. I would have gone long ago, but for him. He is a good
boy;--don't let him guess his sister was--"

She left the word unspoken. Shame seemed to crush her down to the
earth; shame, the precursor of saving penitence--at least, John thought
so. He quitted the room, leaving her to the ministry of his other
self, his wife. As he sat down with me, and told me in a few words
what indeed I had already more than half guessed, I could not but
notice the expression of his own face. And I recognized how a man can
be at once righteous to judge, tender to pity, and strong to save; a
man the principle of whose life is, as John's was--that it should be
made "conformable to the image" of Him, who was Himself on earth the
image of God.

Ursula came out and called her husband. They talked some time
together. I guessed, from what I heard, that she wished Lady Caroline
to stay the night here, but that he with better judgment was urging the
necessity of her returning to the protection of her husband's home
without an hour's delay.

"It is her only chance of saving her reputation. She must do it. Tell
her so, Ursula."

After a few minutes, Mrs. Halifax came out again.

"I have persuaded her at last. She says she will do whatever you think
best. Only before she goes, she wants to look at the children. May
she?"

"Poor soul!--yes," John murmured, turning away.

Stepping out of sight, we saw the poor lady pass through the quiet,
empty house into the children's bed-room. We heard her smothered sob,
at times, the whole way.

Then I went down to the stream, and helped John to saddle his horse,
with Mrs. Halifax's old saddle--in her girlish days, Ursula used to be
very fond of riding.

"She can ride back again from the Mythe," said John. "She wishes to
go, and it is best she should; so that nothing need be said, except
that Lady Caroline spent a day at Longfield, and that my wife and I
accompanied her safe home."

While he spoke, the two ladies came down the field-path. I fancied I
heard, even now, a faint echo of that peculiarly sweet and careless
laugh, indicating how light were all impressions on a temperament so
plastic and weak--so easily remoulded by the very next influence that
fate might throw across her perilous way.

John Halifax assisted her on horseback, took the bridle under one arm
and gave the other to his wife. Thus they passed up the path, and out
at the White Gate.

I delayed a