“Send a note to your wife. I can’t bear to think of her anxiety.” “True,” murmured the Vicar. “You are very kind. It’s like you--to think of everything,” he added, still in a dazed voice. He began to pace the room with uneven steps. “If the maid has gone, run up as quickly as you can to the Vicarage with this note,” said Anne, sealing the envelope, as Burks entered. “She’s still here, ma’am.” “Then give it to her, and tell her to go _at once_, please, Burks. It’s important. Don’t keep her a moment longer talking.” The maid disappeared, and Anne lighted the candles on the mantelpiece, quietly, one by one. “You need have no anxiety,” she said without looking at the Vicar. “Sylvia has been very imprudent, but she realizes it, and is sorry. She had arranged with me to come home and tell you all about it, as soon as I had first spoken to you. She seemed to think that I might have some--some little influence. But I must now leave her to tell her own story. I only want you to understand that she’s safe. I went to my solicitor about the matter, and as she is under age, he had no difficulty in settling the whole affair.” “But--this man?” demanded Mr. Carfax in an unsteady voice. “The man Mrs. Lovell mentions?” For the first time she glanced at him, and saw the fear in his eyes. “Be quite easy. Sylvia had no idea of any evil intention on the man’s part. She is only utterly ignorant and inexperienced. She is one of the pure and innocent women you mentioned just now.” Her voice was gentle, and had not a trace of bitterness. The Vicar continued for a moment his perambulation of the room. Then he stopped abruptly and raised his head. “Thank you,” he said in a husky tone. “I owe you a debt I can never repay. I----” he hesitated painfully. “I wish to God----” he broke out again, and again paused. She looked at him steadily. All the pompous self-importance had died out of his face; all the arrogance of the priest who denounces the sinner. His was the very human face of a man still gasping with relief from deadly fear, still unable to believe that the threatened danger is over. And with this expression of scarcely assured safety there was mingled real sorrow, a look of real affection for the woman to whom he owed his escape from a crushing blow. “You spoke of an explanation,” said Anne in a low voice. “A moment ago I should have asked you to leave me, because of the manner in which you spoke of it. “Now I have changed my mind, and I think I should like to give you an explanation--_my_ explanation.” She was still standing, still looking at him steadily. “You were kind enough to say that people here had loved and trusted me. I am glad if that is the case--very glad.” She waited a moment.