His _conscience_ will come in--and a Raeburn's conscience is the devil! "By now he hates me; every word I speak to him--still more every word to her--galls him.

But he controlled himself when I made him tell me the story--I had no reason to complain--though every now and then I could see him wince under the knowledge I must needs show of the persons and places concerned--a knowledge I could only have got from _her_.

And she stood by meanwhile like a statue.

Not a word, not a look, so far, though she had been forced to touch my hand.

But my instinct saved me.