There was a relief to her, a sort of relief, in those words. The doom as so far spoken was so much a matter of course that it conveyed no penalty. Her story had been told in order that that result might be attained with certainty. There was almost a tone of scorn in her voice as she said, "Oh yes; all that must be over."
"And what next would you have me do?" he asked.
"I have nothing to request," she said. "If you must tell it to all the world, do so."
"Tell it; no. It will not be my business to be an informer."
"But you must tell it. There is Mrs. Orme."
"Yes: to Edith!"
"And I must leave the house. Oh, where shall I go when he knows it? And where will he go?" Wretched miserable woman, but yet so worthy of pity! What a terrible retribution for that night's work was now coming on her!
He again walked to the window to think how he might answer these questions. Must he tell his daughter? Must he banish this criminal at once from his house? Every one now had been told of his intended marriage; every one had been told through Lord Alston, Mr. Furnival, and such as they. That at any rate must now be untold. And would it be possible that she should remain there, living with them at The Cleeve, while all this was being done? In truth he did not know how to speak. He had not hardness of heart to pronounce her doom.
"Of course I shall leave the house," she said, with something almost of pride in her voice. "If there be no place open to me but a gaol I will do that. Perhaps I had better go now and get my things removed at once. Say a word of love for me to her;—a word of respectful love." And she moved as though she were going to the door.
But he would not permit her to leave him thus. He could not let the poor, crushed, broken creature wander forth in her agony to bruise herself at every turn, and to be alone in her despair. She was still the woman whom he had loved; and, over and beyond that, was she not the woman who had saved him from a terrible downfall by rushing herself into utter ruin for his sake? He must take some steps in her behalf—if he could only resolve what those steps should be. She was moving to the door, but stopping her, he took her by the hand. "You did it," he said, "and he, your husband, knew nothing of it?" The fact itself was so wonderful, that he had hardly as yet made even that all his own.