sister-in-law. She saw, and felt, his kindness at a time when
kindness was doubly precious. Her ton es trembled a little as she
spoke to her silent husband.

"Don't you approve of what I have done, Herbert?"

His nerves were shattered by grief and suspense; but he made an
effort this time to speak gently. "How can I say that," he
replied, "if the poor child's life depends on Miss Westerfield? I
ask one favor--give me time to leave the house before she comes
here."

Mrs. Linley looked at him in amazement.

Her mother touched her arm; Randal tried by a sign to warn her to
be careful. Their calmer minds had seen what the wife's agitation
had prevented her from discovering. In Linley's position, the
return of the governess was a trial to his self-control which he
had every reason to dread: his look, his voice, his manner
proclaimed it to persons capable of quietly observing him. He had
struggled against his guilty passion--at what sacrifice of his
own feelings no one knew but himself--and here was the
temptation, at the very time when he was honorably resisting it,
brought back to him by his wife! Her motive did unquestionably
excuse, perhaps even sanction, what she had done; but this was an
estimate of her conduct which commended itself to others. From
his point of view--motive or no motive--he saw the old struggle
against himself in danger of being renewed; he felt the ground
that he had gained slipping from under him already.