ed at her husband with sidelong anxiety, wondering whether he
would say as much when he had heard all. She was sure enough of him. But
as yet they had never differed on a point that mattered, and the one
which was coming mattered infinitely to Morna.

"Hugh," she began, "do you remember being with Rachel yesterday at
Hornby, when she was introduced to Sir Baldwin Gibson?"

"Perfectly," said Hugh.

"He is the judge, you know."

"Yes, yes."

"Did you think they looked as though they had ever seen each other
before?"

The vicar revolved where he sat, looking his wife suddenly in the face,
while a light broke over his own.

"Now you speak of it," he cried, "they did! It didn't strike me at the
time. I was rather surprised at her being so nervous, but that never
occurred to me as the explanation. Yet now I have no doubt about it. You
don't mean to say he knows something against Mrs. Steel, and has been
giving her away?"

"No, dear, the judge has not; but you were not the only one who saw the
meeting; and other eyes are more suspicious than yours, Hugh. Darling,
you would not think the worse of Rachel for keeping her past life to
herself, would you, especially if it had been a very unhappy one?"

"Of course not; it is no business of ours."

"So you told Mrs. Venables the day she came to tell us Mr. Steel was
married, and so I told her again this afternoon. However, that is not
her main point, and there is another thing I am still surer you would
never do. If a person had been put upon her trial, and found not guilty
in open court, you would not treat her as though she had been found
guilty, would you--even though the verdict had come as a surprise?"

"Of course I would not, Morna; no decent Christian would, I should hope!
But do you mean to tell me that Mrs. Steel has been tried for
something?"

"Yes; and by Justice Gibson!"

"Poor thing," said Hugh Woodgate, after a pause.

Morna took his hand.

"My dear, she is, or rather she was, Mrs. Minchin!"

"What! The woman who was tried for murdering her husband?"

"Yes--and acquitted."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed the vicar, and for a minute that was all.
"Well," he continued, "I didn't read the case, and I am glad that I
didn't, but I remember, of course, what was said about it at the time.
But what does it matter what is said? I imagine the jury knew what they
were about; they listened to the evidence for a week, I believe, which
other people read in a few mi