"You may see for yourself, my dear, where the weapon penetrated."
"The weapon? Oh, Horatio!" She trembled.
With accusing forefinger, as if Harriet herself were to blame, the curate pointed to the sinister hole in his boot. "There!" he said. "And if this young lady had not rushed to my assistance with a courage and resourcefulness that I have rarely seen equaled——" he paused to control his emotion, while Mrs. Merle wrung her hands in distress.
"I have been so hasty, so inconsiderate," she wailed. "I shall never forgive myself. And you, my dear young lady," she turned her brimming eyes to Hester, whose face was averted, "what must you think of me? Horatio, introduce us," she whispered.
"Certainly, my dear, this is my young friend, Miss—er——"
Then the adventuress decided. "Miss Hester Storm," she said simply and, with her wonderful, wistful smile, she held out her hand to Mrs. Merle.
"I'm sure I'm very grateful for what you've done, Miss Storm," said Harriet graciously.
And presently these three, such was the effectiveness of Merle's new diplomacy, were walking on most amicably toward Ipping House, the subject of conversation being the wrongs suffered by Hester in a thankless world and the obligation of the Merles to now, in some measure, relieve these wrongs. It may be added that never, to the end of her days, did Harriet Merle fully and clearly grasp the details of the terrible danger from which this dark-eyed damsel had saved her husband.
As a turn in the road brought into view the tiny gable of the gray stone lodge of Ipping House, Harriet saw an opportunity to prove the genuineness of her penitence and gratitude.
"I have it," she exclaimed with a pleased look. "The very thing, Horatio!"