"How can I say that," he replied, "if the poor child's life depends on Miss Westerfield?
I ask one favor--give me time to leave the house before she comes here." Mrs.Linley looked at him in amazement.
Her mother touched her arm; Randal tried by a sign to warn her to be careful.

Their calmer minds had seen what the wife's agitation had prevented her from discovering.

In Linley's position, the return of the governess was a trial to his self-control which he had every reason to dread: his look, his voice, his manner proclaimed it to persons capable of quietly observing him.

He had struggled against his guilty passion--at what sacrifice of his own feelings no one knew but himself--and here was the temptation, at the very time when he was honorably resisting it, brought back to him by his wife! Her motive did unquestionably excuse, perhaps even sanction, what she had done; but this was an estimate of her conduct which commended itself to others.
From his point of view--motive or no motive--he saw the old struggle against himself in danger of being renewed; he felt the ground that he had gained slipping from under him already.
In spite of the well-meant efforts made by her relatives to prevent it, Mrs.Linley committed the very error which it was the most important that she should avoid.

She justified herself, instead of leaving it to events to justify her.