Her courage had sustained her so far, but it had been a great effort. Her voice trembled and broke and at last the tears began to glisten in her eyes.
"Does Nellie know?" asked the squire, who had sat very gravely by her side, but who was in reality deeply moved.
"No—she thinks he—that he is dead," faltered Mrs. Goddard. Then she fairly burst into tears and sobbed passionately, covering her face and rocking herself from side to side.
"My dear friend," said Mr. Juxon very kindly and laying one hand upon her arm, "pray try and calm yourself. Forgive me—I beg you to forgive me for having caused you so much pain—"
"Do you still call me a friend?" sobbed the poor lady.
"Indeed I do," quoth the squire stoutly. And he meant it. Mrs. Goddard dropped her hands and stared into the fire through her falling tears.
"I think you behaved very honourably—very generously," continued Mr. Juxon, who did not know precisely how to console her, and indeed stood much in need of consolation himself. "Perhaps I had better leave you—you are very much agitated—you must need rest—would you not rather that I should go?"
"Yes—it is better," said she, still staring at the fire. "You know all about me now," she added in a tone of pathetic regret. The squire rose to his feet.
"I hope," he said with some hesitation, "that this—this very unfortunate day will not prevent our being friends—better friends than before?"
Mrs. Goddard looked up gratefully through her tears.