"I had many important reasons," she said, "for accepting that invitation and coming hither; but, believe me, Lady Tyrrell, that the thought of being a companion and consolation to you, strange as it may seem, had no slight share in my determination. In the first place, let me inform you, that my late husband, whom I revered and respected, as perhaps you know"--she spoke with perfect calmness--"requested me, upon his deathbed, when the eyes of the only one I ever loved were closing for ever, to accept the invitation, which he doubted not I should receive, to spend some time in this place. It was as a command to me, Lady Tyrrell, which I could by no means disobey. In the next place, I was very anxious to quit that part of the country for a time on two accounts, the strongest of which I will explain to you afterward; the other was personal, I believe I might say, selfish. There are some people who linger fondly in scenes where they have spent happy hours with persons who are lost to them: it seems to recall the happiness without the loss; to me it daily recalls the loss without the happiness; and though I struggled hard against what I felt to be a weakness, yet both the weakness and the struggle undermined my health, which had already suffered. Then, again, my late husband had the highest confidence in the honour and integrity of Sir Francis Tyrrell." "His honour and integrity," said Lady Tyrrell, "and even his generosity, where neither passions nor prejudices are concerned, Mrs. Effingham, may be fully relied on. God forbid that I should not give my husband his full due." "I am sure you would, my dear Lady Tyrrell," replied her companion. "My husband knew him well; his faults, his failings, and his good qualities; and he told me, that although not the wealth of a Cr[oe]sus or the power of an emperor would have made him give his sister or his daughter to be the wife of Sir Francis Tyrrell, yet he could put his wife and daughter confidently under his charge and direction, and with the more confidence, inasmuch as Sir Francis held a considerable mortgage upon his estate, which he believed would only act as a bond to make him treat them more nobly and guide them more carefully." The words of Mrs. Effingham put the character of Sir Francis Tyrrell to his wife in somewhat of a new light, or, at all events, in a light which had not shone upon it for many years, and her eyes filled with tears, called up by many mingled emotions. "Doubtless, you remember my husband well," continued Mrs. Effingham, "for he knew and esteemed you highly, I can assure you, though he had not seen you since your marriage; but there was a conviction upon his mind that yours was the last character on earth to cope with such a temper as that of Sir Francis; who required, he thought, one almost as vehement, quite as determined, and somewhat more calm than his own. Such he knew that you were not, and there was a conviction upon his mind that--"