“Forgive me! I love her so dearly—and I too am a woman.”
She sank upon the sofa as she spoke, and covered her face for a little while. The tears stole quietly down her cheeks. Lawrence Newt stood by her sadly, for his mind was deeply perplexed. They both remained for some time without speaking, until Mrs. Simcoe asked,
“What can we do?”
Lawrence Newt shook his head doubtfully.
They were silent again. At length Mrs. Simcoe said:
“I will do it.”
“What?” asked Lawrence.
“What I have been meaning to do for a long, long time,” replied the other. “I will tell her the story.”
An indefinable expression settled upon Lawrence Newt’s face as she spoke.
“Has she never asked?” he inquired.