"Is there nothing that I could do? nothing Sydney could do—to make amends?"
"Nothing," said Lettice gently, but with decision. "They are happy now, and prosperous; good has come out of the evil, and it is better to forget the evil itself. Don't be afraid; I hear from them, and about them, constantly, and if ever they were in need of help, our hands would be the ones stretched out to help them. The good we cannot do to them we can do to others for their sakes."
And Nan was comforted.
Sydney came home early that evening; anxious, disquieted, somewhat out of heart. He found that Lettice had gone, and that Nan was in her sitting-room. He generally went up to her when he came in, and this time he did not fail; though his lips paled a little as he went upstairs, for the thought forced itself upon him that Lettice might have made things worse, not better, between himself and his wife.
The daylight was fading as he entered the room. Nan was lying down, but she was not asleep, for she turned her head towards him as he entered. He noticed the movement. Of late she had always averted her face when he came near her. He wished that he could see her more plainly, but she was wrapped in shadow, and the room was almost dark.
He asked after her health as usual, and whether Lettice had been and gone. Then silence fell between them, but he felt that Nan was looking at him intently, and he did not dare to turn away.
"Sydney," she said at last. "Will you come here? Close to me. I want to say something——"
"Yes, Nan?"
He bent down over her, with something like a new hope in his heart. What was she going to say to him?