"Now then," he said, gently, "I am in a position to put the matter to you finally, as--before God--it appears to me. Juliet Sparling--as I said to Oliver last night--was not a bad woman! She sinned deeply, but she was never false to her husband in thought or deed; none of her wrong-doing was deliberate; she was tortured by remorse; and her murderous act was the impulse of a moment, and partly in self-defence. It was wholly unpremeditated; and it killed her no less than her victim. When, next day, she was removed by the police, she was already a dying woman. I have in my possession a letter--written to me by her--after her release, in view of her impending death, by the order of the Home Office--a few days before she died. It is humble--it is heart-rending--it breathes the sincerity of one who had turned all her thoughts from earth; but it thanked me for having read her aright; and if ever I could have felt a doubt of my own interpretation of the case--but, thank God, I never did!--that letter would have shamed it out of me! Poor soul, poor soul! She sinned, and she suffered--agonies, beyond any penalty of man's inflicting. Will you prolong her punishment in her child?" Lady Lucy had covered her face with her hand. He saw her breath flutter in her breast. And sitting down beside her, blanched by the effort he had made, and by the emotion he had at last permitted himself, yet fixing his eyes steadily on the woman before him, he waited for her reply. CHAPTER XII Lady Lucy did not reply at once. She slowly drew forward the neglected tea-table, made tea, and offered it to Sir James. He took it impatiently, the Irish blood in him running hot and fast; and when she had finished her cup, and still the silence lasted, except for the trivial question-and-answer of the tea-making, he broke in upon it with a somewhat peremptory-- "Well?" Lady Lucy clasped her hands on her lap. The hand which had been so far bare was now gloved like the other, and something in the spectacle of the long fingers, calmly interlocked and clad in spotless white kid, increased the secret exasperation in her companion. "Believe me, dear Sir James," she said at last, lifting her clear brown eyes, "I am very grateful to you. It must have been a great effort for you to tell me this awful story, and I thank you for the confidence you have reposed in me." Sir James pushed his chair back. "I did it, of course, for a special reason," he said, sharply. "I hope I have given you cause to change your mind." She shook her head slowly.