She paused a moment, her pale lips moving soundlessly, unconsciously. "I--I'll tell you about that presently. But the awful thing was--she said people were saying--that the Rector--that Mr. Meynell--was Hester's father--and Judith Sabin had told Mr. Barron so before her death. And they declared the Bishop would make him resign--and give up his living. It would be such a scandal, she said--it might even break up the League. And it would ruin Mr. Meynell, so people thought. Of course there were many people who were angry--who didn't believe a word--but this woman who told me was astonished that so many _did_ believe.... So then I thought all night--what I should do. And this morning I went to Edith, my sister, and told her. And she went into hysterics, and said she always knew I should bring disgrace on them in the end--and her life had been a burden to her for eighteen years--oh! that's what she says to me so often! But the strange thing was she wanted to make me promise I would say nothing--not a word. We were to go abroad, and the thing would die away. And then--" She withdrew her hands from Catharine, and rising to her feet she pressed the damp hair back from her face, and began to pace the room--unconsciously--still talking. "I asked her what was to happen about Richard--about the Rector. I said he must bring an action, and I would give evidence--it must all come out. And then she fell upon me--and said I was an ungrateful wretch. My sin had spoilt her life--and Ralph's. They had done all they could--and now the publicity--if I insisted--would disgrace them all--and ruin the girls' chances of marrying, and I don't know what besides. But if I held my tongue--we could go away for a time--it would be forgotten, and nobody out of Upcote need ever hear of it. People would never believe such a thing of Richard Meynell. Of course he would deny it--and of course his word would be taken. But to bring out the whole story in a law-court--" She paused beside Catharine, wringing her hands, gathering up as it were her whole strength to pour it--slowly, deliberately--into the words that followed: "But I--will run no risk of ruining Richard Meynell! As for me--what does it matter what happens to me! And darling Hester!--we could keep it from her--we would! She and I could live abroad. And I don't see how it could disgrace Edith and the girls--people would only say she and Ralph had been very good to me. But Richard Meynell!--with these trials coming on--and all the excitement about him--there'll be ever so many who would be wild to believe it! They won't care how absurd it is--they'll want to _crush_ him! And he--he'll _never_ say a word for himself--to explain--never! Because he couldn't without telling all my story. And that--do you suppose Richard Meynell would ever do _that_?--to any poor human soul that had trusted him?"