“Don’t be alarmed, my girl, there is no bad news,” he said; and with a sigh of relief the girl showed him in to where Richard, Eve, and Mrs Glaire were seated, all watchful, pale, and ready to take alarm at the least sound.
“I’m glad you have come, Mr Selwood,” exclaimed Mrs Glaire; while Richard gave him a sulky nod, Eve trying to rise, but sinking back trembling.
“I should have been here sooner,” he said, “but I have had much to do.”
“Is there any fresh danger?”
“None whatever,” said the vicar. “I think the storm is over—I hope for good.”
Mrs Glaire gave a sigh of relief, and then wondered, as she saw the vicar cross the room; but the next minute a faint flush came into her pale cheeks, and she tottered to where Eve was sitting, and buried her face on her shoulder.
“Mr Glaire,” said the vicar, firmly, as he nerved himself for what he had to say, determined, as he was, to leave nothing undone in what he looked upon as his duty—“Mr Glaire, I have done you a grievous wrong; I humbly ask your pardon.”
“What do you mean?” said Richard, starting, and wondering, with his customary distrust in human nature, whether it was some trap.
“I mean that, in common with others, I believed you guilty of inveigling Daisy Banks away.”
“It don’t matter to me what people think,” said Richard, roughly.