She felt that beneath his haughty and wayward character there had lurked delicate and generous forbearance for her; that from his equivocal position his very faults might have arisen; and a pang of remorse for her long sacrifice of the children to the father shot through her heart.

It was followed by a fear, an appalling fear, more painful than the remorse.

The proofs that were to clear herself and them! The words of her husband, that last awful morning, rang in her ear.

The minister dead; the witness absent; the register lost! But the copy of that register!--the copy! might not that suffice?
She groaned, and closed her eyes as if to shut out the future: then starting up, she hurried from the room, and went straight to Beaufort's study.

As she laid her hand on the latch of the door, she trembled and drew back.