Another grief lay below, the grief of a sorrowful new self-knowledge following upon long self-deception. Hermione had only endured it hitherto, refusing to face the truth bravely. But Julia's words took effect. Hermione did face it that evening in Church, solemnly, silently, with many tears.
Mr. Fitzalan went home after the evening service, counting his day's work done, and was met by Marjory, who had arrived first. She said, "Father, Hermione is in the study. She wants a word with you. Slade was to see her home, and he is waiting in the kitchen."
Mr. Fitzalan made a sign of assent, and went to his study, closing the door behind him. Hermione stood near the table, her head bent, and traces of tears on her cheeks.
"Well, my child?" he said kindly, speaking as a father might have spoken.
Hermione put her hand into his. "I am going to East Bourne," she said brokenly.
"That is good news. I am sure you are wise."
"Mittie—wants it—"
"Yes. She is a dear little child."
"I told her—but it is not only Mittie. I know I—ought."
"I think you are right. By-and-by you must come here for a long visit. After your return."