372 The Real Charlotte. 



this morning about giving up the agency. Well, I — I 

 should be glad if he would keep it." 



He had stultified himself now effectually ; he knew that 

 he had acted like a fool, and he felt quite sure that Mr. 

 Lambert's sense of gratitude would not prevent his holding 

 the same opinion. He even foresaw Lambert's complacent 

 assumption that Francie had talked him over, but he could 

 not help himself. The abstract justice of allowing the 

 innocent to suffer with the guilty was beyond him ; he for- 

 got to theorise, and acted on instinct as simply as a savage. 

 She also had acted on instinct. When she called him in 

 she had nerved herself to ask for reprieve, but she never 

 hoped for forgiveness, and as his intention penetrated the 

 egotism of suffering, the thought leaped with it that, if 

 Roddy were to be let off, everything would be on the same 

 footing that it had been yesterday evening. A blush that 

 was incomprehensible to Christopher swept over her face ; 

 the grasp of circumstances relaxed somewhat, and a jangle 

 of unexplainable feelings confused what self-control she had 

 left. 



*' You're awfully good," she began half hysterically. *' I 

 always knew you were good ; I wish Roddy was like you ! 

 Oh, I wish I was like you ! I can't help it — I can't help 

 crying ; you were always too good to me, and I never was 

 worth it ! " She sat down on one of the high stiff chairs, 

 for which her predecessor had worked beaded seats, and 

 hid her eyes in her handkerchief. " Please don't talk to 

 me ; please don't say anything to me — " She stopped 

 suddenly. " What's that ? Is that anyone riding up ? " 



'* No. It's your horse coming round from the yard," 

 said Christopher, taking a step towards the window, and trying 

 to keep up the farce of talking as if nothing had happened. 



" My horse ! " she exclaimed, starting up. ^' Oh, yes, I 

 must go and meet Roddy. I mustn't wait any longer." 

 She began, as if unconscious of Christopher's presence, to 

 look for the whip and gloves that she had laid down. He 

 saw them before she did, and handed them to her. 



"Good-bye," he said, taking her cold, trembling hand, 

 " I must go too. You will tell your husband that it's — 

 it's all right." 



" Yes. I'll tell him. I'm going to meet him. I must 

 start now," she answered, scarcely seeming to notice what 



