Should the truth ever come
to her--"

"But I trust it never will come to her," interrupted Hartledon, his face
growing hot.

"It's a delicate point to argue," acknowledged Mr. Carr, "and I cannot
hope to bring you into my way of looking at it. Had you married Miss
Ashton, it appears to me that you would have no resource but to tell
her: the very fact of being bound to you would kill a religious,
high-principled woman."

"Not if she remained in ignorance."

"There it is. Ought she to remain in ignorance?"

Lord Hartledon leaned his head on his hand as one faint and weary.
"Carr, it is of no use to go over all this ground again. If I disclose
the whole to Maude, how would it make it better for her? Would it not
render it a hundred times worse? She could not inform against me; it
would be contrary to human nature to suppose it; and all the result
would be, that she must go through life with the awful secret upon her,
rendering her days a hell upon earth, as it is rendering mine. It's true
she might separate from me; I dare say she would; but what satisfaction
would that bring her? No; the kinder course is to allow her to remain in
ignorance. Good Heavens! tell my wife! I should never dare do it!"

Mr. Carr made no reply, and a pause ensued. In truth, the matter was
encompassed with difficulties on all sides; and the barrister could but
acknowledge that Val's argument had some sort of reason in it. Having
bound her to himself by marriage, it might be right that he should study
her happiness above all things.

"It has put new life into me," Val resumed, pointing to the letter. "Now
that he has promised to keep the secret, there's little to fear; and I
know that he will keep his word. I must bear the burden as I best can,
and keep a smiling face to the world."

"Did you read the postscript?" asked Mr. Carr; a feeling coming over him
that Val had not read it.

"The postscript?"

"There's a line or two over the leaf."

Lord Hartledon glanced at it, and found it ran thus:

"You must be aware that another person knows of this besides myself. He
who was a witness at the time, and from whom _I_ heard the particulars.
Of course for him I cannot answer, and I think he is in England. I
allude to G.G. Lord H. will know."

"Lord H." apparently did know. He gazed down at the words with a knitted
brow, in which some surprise was mingled.

"I declare that I understood him that night to say the fellow had died.
Di