ly. And he meant it. Mrs. Goddard
dropped her hands and stared into the fire through her falling tears.

"I think you behaved very honourably--very generously," continued Mr.
Juxon, who did not know precisely how to console her, and indeed stood
much in need of consolation himself. "Perhaps I had better leave you--you
are very much agitated--you must need rest--would you not rather that I
should go?"

"Yes--it is better," said she, still staring at the fire. "You know all
about me now," she added in a tone of pathetic regret. The squire rose to
his feet.

"I hope," he said with some hesitation, "that this--this very unfortunate
day will not prevent our being friends--better friends than before?"

Mrs. Goddard looked up gratefully through her tears.

"How good you are!" she said softly.

"Not at all--I am not at all good--I only want to be your friend.
Good-bye--G--God bless you!" He seized her hand and squeezed it and then
hurried out of the room. A moment later he was crossing the road with
Stamboul, who was very tired of waiting, bounding before him.

The squire was not a romantic character. He was a strong plain man, who
had seen the world and was used to most forms of danger and to a good
many forms of suffering. He was kind-hearted and generous, capable of
feeling sincere sympathy for others, and under certain circumstances of
being deeply wounded himself. He had indeed a far more refined nature
than he himself suspected and on this memorable day he had experienced
more emotions than he remembered to have felt in the course of many
years.

After long debate and after much searching inquiry into his own motives
he had determined to offer himself to Mrs. Goddard, and he had
accordingly done so in his own straightforward manner. It had seemed
a very important action in his life, a very solemn step, but he was not
prepared for the acute sense of disappointment which he felt when Mrs.
Goddard first said it was impossible for her to accept him, still less
had he anticipated the extraordinary story which she had told him, in
explanation of her refusal. His ideas were completely upset. That Mrs.
Goddard was not a widow after all, was almost as astounding as that she
should prove to be the wife of a felon. But Mr. Juxon was no less
persuaded that she herself was a perfectly good and noble woman, than he
had been before. He felt that he would like to cut the throat of the
villain himself; but he resolved that he wou