As soon as Baxter had told all the lies he chose to invent, and confessed as much of the truth as he thought would serve his purpose, his deposition was taken and sworn to. This was all that could then be done, as it was near twelve o’clock. Poor Jacob’s joy at having his innocence proved, and at being relieved from the fear of injuring the credit of his master’s house, raised his spirits higher than I ever saw them in my life before. But still his joy and gratitude were more shown by looks than words. He thanked me once, and but once, warmly and strongly. “Ah! Mr. Harrington,” said he, “from the time you were _Master_ Harrington at school, you were my best friend--always my friend in most need--I trusted in you, and still I hoped!--hoped that the truth would stand, and the lie fall. See at last our Hebrew proverb right--‘_A lie has no feet._’” CHAPTER XVIII. The next morning, before I left my room to go down to breakfast, my servant told me that Lady de Brantefield’s housekeeper, Mrs. Fowler, begged to speak to me--she had been come some time. I went into my mother’s dressing-room, where she was waiting alone. I could not bear to fix my eyes upon her; I advanced towards her, wishing, as I believe I said aloud, that she had spared me the pain of this interview. I waited in silence for her to speak, but she did not say a word--I heard the unhappy woman sobbing violently. Suddenly she took her handkerchief from before her face, and her sobs ceasing, she exclaimed, “I know you hate me, Mr. Harrington, and you have reason to hate me--more--much more than you know of! But Lord Mowbray is the most to blame.” I stood in astonishment. I conceived either that the woman was out of her senses, or that she had formed the not unprecedented design of affecting insanity, in hope of escaping the punishment of guilt: she threw herself at my feet--she would have clasped my knees, but I started back from her insufferable touch; provoked by this, she exclaimed, in a threatening tone, “Take care, sir!--The secret is still in my power.” Then observing, I believe, that her threat made no impression, her tone changed again to the whine of supplication. “Oh, Mr. Harrington, if I could hope for your forgiveness, I could reveal such a secret--a secret that so concerns you!” I retreated, saying that I would not hear any secret from her. But I stopped, and was fixed to the spot, when she added, under her breath, the name of Montenero. Then, in a hypocritical voice, she went on--“Oh, Mr. Harrington!--Oh, sir, I have, been a great sinner! led on--led on by them that was worse than myself; but if you will plead for me with my lady, and prevail upon her not to bring me to public shame about this unfortunate affair of the ring, I will confess all to you--I will throw myself on your mercy. I will quit the country if you will prevail on my lady--to let my daughter’s marriage go on, and not to turn her out of favour.”