His heart ached as he saw that bright head lying there bowed low with shame and disgrace.
"Papa," she whispered, in a voice like saddest music, "papa, do you condemn me?"
He was silent a moment, struggling with the keenest agony he had ever known. Then he answered very gently:
"My poor Queenie, I forgive you." Then added in the words of the great Teacher of men: "Let him that is without sin cast the first stone."
And the first beams of the newly risen day shone into the room and crowned his gray head like a halo of light.
[CHAPTER VII.]
"Yes, Queenie was quite sick for more than a month after we returned from abroad. She is not strong yet, but she has promised to come down into the drawing-room for a little while this evening."
It was Mrs. Lyle who spoke, in the calmest, most composed tone in the world. She was leaning back in her chair, richly dressed in silk and lace and fluttering her fan as she talked to Captain Ernscliffe who leaned over the back of her chair, tall, handsome and stately, the most distinguished-looking man in the room.
Mrs. Lyle was giving a small reception after her return, and had bidden the creme de la creme of society only, to welcome her home.