unsels and to the influences of a
man who has endeavoured to undermine me in her affection. In saying
that I make my accusation as light against her as is possible. I
might make it much heavier, and yet not sin against the truth."

"This is an illusion, Louis."

"Ah;--well. No doubt it becomes you to defend your child. Was it
an illusion when he went to Devonshire? Was it an illusion when he
corresponded with her,--contrary to my express orders,--both before
and after that unhallowed journey? Lady Rowley, there must be no more
such illusions. If my wife means to come back to me, and to have her
child in her own hands, she must be penitent as regards the past, and
obedient as regards the future."

There was a wicked bitterness in that word penitent which almost
maddened Lady Rowley. She had come to this meeting believing that
Trevelyan would be rejoiced to take back his wife, if details could
be arranged for his doing so which should not subject him to the
necessity of crying, peccavi; but she found him speaking of his wife
as though he would be doing her the greatest possible favour in
allowing her to come back to him dressed in sackcloth, and with ashes
on her head. She could understand from what she had heard that his
tone and manner were much changed since he obtained possession of
the child, and that he now conceived that he had his wife within his
power. That he should become a tyrant because he had the power to
tyrannise was not in accordance with her former conception of the
man's character;--but then he was so changed, that she felt that
she knew nothing of the man who now stood before her. "I cannot
acknowledge that my daughter has done anything that requires
penitence," said Lady Rowley.

"I dare say not; but my view is different."

"She cannot admit herself to be wrong when she knows herself to be
right. You would not have her confess to a fault, the very idea of
which has always been abhorrent to her?"

"She must be crushed in spirit, Lady Rowley, before she can again
become a pure and happy woman."

"This is more than I can bear," said Lady Rowley, now, at last,
worked up to a fever of indignation. "My daughter, sir, is as pure a
woman as you have ever known, or are likely to know. You, who should
have protected her against the world, will some day take blame to
yourself as you remember that you have so cruelly maligned her." Then
she walked away to the door, and would not listen to the words which