"He is devotedly fond of his wife and of the child. To tell him that Florence is a liar and a cheat--that she has practised a deception upon him for many years, in order to gain position and a good income for herself as the mother of his son--above all, to tell him that the boy is not his son at all--do you think that he will survive it? Dare you take upon yourselves the responsibility of shortening his days in that way? I must confess that in your places I should hold my tongue; because it does not seem to have occurred to you that, after all, old Mrs. Meldreth may not have been speaking the truth." "I never thought of that," said Enid. "If you had seen the woman herself, Miss Vane, you would have been convinced of her sincerity," said the Rector. "Possibly. But only you two were there. The General will probably refuse to listen to Enid's testimony, and will fume himself into an apoplectic fit when he hears that she has any to give. You, Mr. Evandale, did not hear the woman's communication at all. Suppose you kill the General by the news--do you want to take the matter into court? Is Enid to stand up and tell her experiences to a pack of lawyers, and hear the world say that she has done it to get the estate for herself? You could not bear it, Enid, my child! You would lose your head and contradict yourself; and Flossy would brazen it out and be the heroine of the day; and Mr. Evandale would be ruined in costs." "I don't mind that, so long as the truth prevails," said Mr. Evandale. "I do not want the money--neither does Enid; we would sooner endow an hospital with it or give it to little Dick than keep it if gained under such auspices. But it is hard to see Mrs. Vane--whom I firmly believe to be guilty of fraud as well as of an attempt upon my darling's life--triumphant in wrong-doing." "Well, nobody ought to know better than you, Mr. Evandale, that the wicked flourish like the green bay-tree," said Miss Vane drily; "and I don't see that it is our part to destroy them." "Aunt Leo, you are making us feel ourselves horrid!" said Enid from the cushions amongst which her aunt had insisted on installing her. "We do not want to punish her, or to make dear uncle Richard ill, or to turn poor little Dick out of Beechfield." "Yet it is just those things which you propose doing." There was a moment's silence. Then the Rector looked at Enid. "I think we shall have to give it up, Enid, unless we get other evidence." "Oh, I am so glad!" cried Enid, with tears in her eyes. "It was when I felt that it was perhaps my duty to speak that I was so miserable! But, if it would simply make mischief and be of no use, I am only too glad to feel that I may keep silence."