“I am sorry I misjudged you,” continued the vicar; “and once more I ask your pardon.”
“It don’t matter,” said Richard.
“Mrs Glaire,” the vicar continued, kindly, as he drew a chair to her side and took her hand, “you did a foolish, cruel thing in this.”
“Then you know all?” she sobbed.
“Yes, all—from the lips of Daisy herself. I will not blame you, though, for the act has recoiled upon yourself, and it is only by great mercy that, embittered as these men were through it, a horrible crime has not been committed.”
“I did it—I did it to save him,” sobbed Mrs Glaire. “I am a mother, and he is my only boy.”
“Poor, stricken Banks is a father, and Daisy is his only child. Mrs Glaire, you did him a cruel wrong. Why did you not trust me?”
“I was mad and foolish,” she sobbed. “I dared not trust any one, even Daisy; and I thought it would be best for all—that it would save her, and it has been all in vain. Look at him,” she cried angrily; “after all, he defies me, insults his cousin’s love, and, when the poor, foolish girl comes back, his first act is to seek her, to the forgetting of his every promise to us both.”
Eve had covered her face with her hands.
“Daisy is as bad as he,” continued Mrs Glaire, angrily.