"Oh no, no!" cried the poor lady in great distress. "It is quite impossible--I assure you it is quite, quite impossible!" "I don't know," said Mr. Juxon, who saw that she was deeply moved, but was loath to abandon the field without a further struggle. "I am not a very young man, it is true--but I am not a very old one either. You, my dear Mrs. Goddard, have been a widow for some years--" "I?" cried Mrs. Goddard with a wild hysterical laugh. "I! Oh God of mercy! I wish I were." Again she buried her face in the cushion. Her bosom heaved violently. The squire started as though he had been struck, and the blood rushed to his brown face so that the great veins on his temples stood out like cords. "Did I--did I understand you to say that--your husband is living?" he asked in a strong, loud voice, ringing with emotion. Mrs. Goddard moved a little and seemed to make a great effort to speak. "Yes," she said very faintly. The squire rose to his feet and paced the room in terrible agitation. "But where?" he asked, stopping suddenly in his walk. "Mrs. Goddard, I think I have a right to ask where he is--why you have never spoken of him?" By a supreme effort the unfortunate lady raised herself from her seat supporting herself upon one hand, and faced the squire with wildly staring eyes. "You have a right to know," she said. "He is in Portland--sentenced to twelve years hard labour for forgery." She said it all, to the end, and then fell back into her chair. But she did not hide her face this time. The fair pathetic features were quite motionless and white, without any expression, and her hands lay with the palms turned upwards on her knees. Charles James Juxon was a man of few words, not given to using strong language on any occasion. But he was completely overcome by the horror of the thing. He turned icy cold as he stood still, rooted to the spot, and he uttered aloud one strong and solemn ejaculation, more an invocation than an oath, as though he called on heaven to witness the misery he looked upon. He gazed at the colourless, inanimate face of the poor lady and walked slowly to the window. There he stood for fully five minutes, motionless, staring out at the driving sleet. Mrs. Goddard had fainted away, but it did not occur to the squire to attempt to recall her to her senses. It seemed merciful that she should have lost consciousness even for a moment. Indeed she needed no help, for in a few minutes she slowly opened her eyes and closed them, then opened them again and saw Mr. Juxon's figure darkening the window against the grey light. "Mr. Juxon," she said faintly, "come here, please." The squire started and turned. Then he came and sat down beside her. His face was very stern and grave, and he said nothing.