"Yes, all--from the lips of Daisy herself. I will not blame you, though, for the act has recoiled upon yourself, and it is only by great mercy that, embittered as these men were through it, a horrible crime has not been committed." "I did it--I did it to save him," sobbed Mrs Glaire. "I am a mother, and he is my only boy." "Poor, stricken Banks is a father, and Daisy is his only child. Mrs Glaire, you did him a cruel wrong. Why did you not trust me?" "I was mad and foolish," she sobbed. "I dared not trust any one, even Daisy; and I thought it would be best for all--that it would save her, and it has been all in vain. Look at him," she cried angrily; "after all, he defies me, insults his cousin's love, and, when the poor, foolish girl comes back, his first act is to seek her, to the forgetting of his every promise to us both." Eve had covered her face with her hands. "Daisy is as bad as he," continued Mrs Glaire, angrily. "There you are mistaken," said the vicar; "her act to-night was to warn your son of his dreadful danger. She went to save him from a terrible death." "Pray say no more," said Mrs Glaire, shuddering; and Richard turned of a sallow yellow. "It has been a terrible affair," said the vicar; "but I sincerely hope that all is over, for your act has borne fruits, Mrs Glaire, and Daisy has seen the folly of the past." Richard looked up wonderingly, but refused to meet their visitor's eye. "I have spoken hastily, and I owe you an apology, Miss Pelly," continued the vicar, rising; "but it was better to be plain even before you. I was only too glad, though, to come and apologise to Mr Glaire for the wrong I had done." "But poor Joe Banks?" exclaimed Mrs Glaire. "He seems to have been struck down by an apoplectic fit. He was shocked, no doubt, at finding that so dastardly an attempt had been made, and at the sight of your son and his child in such imminent peril. I hope, however, and sincerely believe, that he will recover. I have just come from there. Good night." He pressed Mrs Glaire's hand, and held that of Eve for a few moments, saying to himself, "Poor girl, I have lightened her heart of some of its load. I have somewhat cleared the man she loves." "Good night, Mr Glaire," he said, turning to Richard. "I'll see you out," said Richard; and he followed him to the now vacant hall. "What did you mean," he said, roughly, "about Daisy?" "I mean," said the vicar, laying his hand upon the young man's shoulder, "that she has awakened to the folly and weakness of her dealings with you, sir, and to the truth, honesty, and faith of the man who has loved her for so long." "Podmore?" hissed Richard. "Yes, Podmore. Now, Mr Glaire, your course is open." "What do you mean?" cried Richard, angrily. "Act as a man of honour." "I don't understand you." "And all will be forgiven. Good night."