"No, no," she pleaded. "Oh, papa, have mercy! Papa, papa!"
"You should have made that prayer to your husband, Adela—while the time to do it yet remained to you."
She clasped her hands in bitter repentance. "He will forgive me yet; I know he will. He may let me——"
"Never," interrupted Lord Acorn. "You may put that notion out of your mind for good, Adela. Francis Grubb will never forgive you, or receive you back while life shall last."
She moaned faintly.
"And you have only yourself to thank for it. Put your things on, as I bid you," he sternly added. "This is waste of time. And send your maid to me for instructions."
And thus Adela was removed from her husband's house overwhelmed with shame and remorse.
[CHAPTER XXIX.]
A DREARY LIFE.
In the light of the late but genial autumn sunshine lay Court Netherleigh. September was quickly passing. It was summer weather when we last met the reader; it is getting on for winter now.