"Of that there is no doubt. But the end is also certain. Nothing can withstand the evidence of our case. It is so clear that I myself am of opinion that the bride was actually Miss Molly."
They both looked at Lady Anastasia, who made no response—her eyes in her lap.
"The truth will lie with us three," the tempter went on. "Only with us three. None of us will reveal it."
"As regards jealousy, Anastasia, the girl will be here, and everything will continue just as before."
She threw up her arms and sprang to her feet. "Oh!" she cried, "it is the most monstrous villainy."
"We need not think of the girl. We must think of ourselves."
"A service of love," murmured Mr. Purdon, "a beautiful, a noble service of love!"
"The fortune is immense, Anastasia. It is ridiculous that the girl should have so much. We will leave her a competence. Besides, there are the jewels."
Lady Anastasia gasped.
"You yourself will adorn these jewels. It will be my greatest pleasure to atone for my ill-judged deception by giving you all those jewels—the diamonds, the rubies, the chains of pearls, and all the rest of the pretty glittering things." He took her hands, the parson looking on all the time as a physician looks on at a blood-letting or an operation. "What can that girl do with jewels? They shall all be yours. Forgive me, Anastasia, and let us again work together as we have already done—you and I—with no more jealousy and no more suspicions."