Sir James stood up, and held out his hands.
“Ralph has come,” he said. “He is gone to his room. Where are the others?”
“The priests are at prayers and Meg too,” she said. “It is all ready, sir. You may go up when you please.”
“I must say a word first,” said Sir James. “Sit down, Mistress Atherton.”
He drew forward his chair for her; and himself stood up on the hearth, leaning his head on his hand and looking down into the fire.
“It is this,” he said: “May our Lord reward you for what you have done for us.”
Beatrice was silent.
“You know she asked my pardon,” he said, “when we were left alone together. You do not know what that means. And she gave me her forgiveness for all my folly—”
Beatrice drew a sharp breath in spite of herself.
“We have both sinned,” he went on; “we did not understand one another; and I feared we should part so. That we have not, we have to thank you—”