Hubert stood aghast. Was this trembling woman the cold imperturbable sister whom he had known of old? He had seldom seen Florence shed tears, even in her youthful days. Was it the consciousness of her past guilt that had changed her thus? He reflected that, according to all tradition, a woman's nature was more sensitive and delicate than that of a man. Florence was weighed down perhaps by that sense of remorse which he had well-nigh forgotten. He had, as he had said, resolved to put the past behind him and to lead a new life. She, a woman, with all a woman's weakness, found it a difficult task to forgive herself the misery that she had caused; and he, the only person who could understand and sympathise with her, who might have strengthened her in her struggle against evil--for such he considered must be the cause of her distress--he had neglected her, and been perhaps a source of pain instead of encouragement. He should have remembered that her guilt was surely not greater than his own. Softened by these thoughts, he bent down to place his hand on her shoulder and to kiss her forehead. "My poor Flossy," he said, using the old pet name as he had used it for many weary years, "you must not grieve now! Forget the past--we can but leave it to Heaven. There is nothing--absolutely nothing now--that we can do." "No," she said, letting her hands fall upon her lap and wearily submitting to his kiss--"nothing for you--nothing at all for you--now." There was a deep meaning in her words to which he had not the slightest clue. CHAPTER XI. Hubert Lepel had accepted his sister's invitation to Beechfield Hall for two nights only; but, as he had given her to understand, he was quite ready to come again, supposing of course that she made his visit agreeable to him. So far--an hour and a half after his first arrival--it had not been very agreeable. He had been obliged to allude to a matter which was highly unpleasant to him, and he had had to stand by while his sister burst into quite unnecessary and incomprehensible tears. He was not so soft-hearted a man as he had been eight years ago, and he told himself impatiently that he could not stand much more of this kind of thing.