"Who are to know all, Squire?"
"My wife, my sisters, Mrs. Everett, my friends."
"Oh, God, God, why was I ever born!" moaned Hetty.
"You'll feel better afterward," said Awdrey. "Try and remember that in the awful struggle and ordeal of the next few minutes your soul and mine will be born again—they will be saved—saved from the power of evil. Be brave, Hetty. You told me to-night that you loved me—prove the greatness of your love by helping me to save my own soul and yours."
"I wonder if this is true," said Hetty. "You seem to lift me out of myself." She spoke in a sort of dull wonder.
"It is true—it is right—it is the only thing; come at once."
She did not say any more, nor make the least resistance. They left the office together. They trod softly on the gravel path which led to the main entrance of the old house. They both entered the hall side by side. Hetty looked pale and untidy; her hair fell partly down her back; there were undried tears on her cheeks; her eyes had a wild and startled gleam in them; the Squire was also deadly pale, but he was quiet and composed. The fierce struggle which had nearly rent his soul in two was completely over at that moment. In the calm there was also peace, and the peace had settled on his face.
Mrs. Henessey was standing in the wide entrance hall. She started when she saw her brother; then she glanced at Hetty, then she looked again at the Squire.
"Why, Robert!" she said, "Robert!"
There was an expression about Hetty's face and about Awdrey's face which silenced and frightened her.