. He had made the girl a present to facilitate her marriage and
had got the husband work away from the town, where no gossip would have
reached. This seemed enough, and so Doctor Tillman, an old and wise
friend, urged. But as the time of Tom's release approached and his wife
made preparations for receiving him in a cottage just on the edge of Sir
Winterton's estate, it became odious to think of the black looks and
scowls which would embitter every ride in that direction. "I want to
forget the whole thing, to get rid of it, to blot it all out," said Sir
Winterton fretfully. Prison had induced reason in Tom Sinnett; he made
his submission and accepted the liberal help which carried him and his
wife, his daughter and her husband, to a new life across the seas. Then
Sir Winterton had peace in his heart and abroad; he had behaved most
handsomely, and there were no scowling faces to remind him of the hateful
episode. He had met the gossip boldly and defiantly; it had died away and
had seemed utterly forgotten and extinct; the low grumbles and not very
seemly jokes which still lingered among the men at the various works in
Henstead, where Tom had been a _persona grata_, never reached the ears of
the great folk at Moors End; it is perhaps only at election times that
such things become audible in such quarters.

The poor lady ended with a careworn smile; she had suffered much during
the episode, and perhaps the more because her faith in her husband had
never wavered.

"I did so hope it was all over," she said.

"That's a good deal to hope about anything," observed Mrs. Baxter rather
grimly.

"It does annoy Winterton so terribly. I'm afraid it'll quite upset him."

Mrs. Baxter had her own opinion about Sir Winterton; amid much that was
favourable, she had no doubt that he was far too ready to get on the high
horse.

"Well, my dear," she said, "Sir Winterton'll have to do what many people
have; he must swallow his pride and tell the truth about it."

"I don't think he will," sighed Lady Mildmay, looking out at her
husband's tall imposing figure, and marking the angry energy with which
he was impressing his views on the Dean.

In this case at least Mrs. Baxter was right. Sir Winterton had got on the
very highest of horses; he had mounted at the meeting, flinging back his
"No, I won't," as he sprang to the saddle; he was firmly seated; having
got up, he declared that he could not think of coming down. There, for
good or evi