And in the moment that ensued between this confession of conscience, and the entrance of the others, he had time too to realise that one cannot be a villain one moment, and have done with the villainy and its effects in the next instant. One woman’s heart, at least, must go near to break, in punishment for his sin of this night–or rather, for this night’s consummation of his sin. It lay with him to decide which woman must suffer–Nita, who was here, close by, and whose agonies he must watch; or Sara Ford, away in Elberthal, and alone, now–and whom he would not be able to see, let her have what she might to endure–Sara, who had loved him all along–who loved him still, as he knew, and would have known, had fifty letters come to tell him how devoted she and Rudolf Falkenberg were, the one to the other. Which woman was to have the blow from his cowardly hand? An ugly problem; one which would require answering very soon–but not to-night. It might be delayed till to-morrow. He felt a sense of relief at this, as Mr. Bolton and John Leyburn came in, and they began to ask him why he was alone, and what had become of Nita. The three men supped alone that night. When John Leyburn was departing, and Wellfield was about to go with him, Mr. Bolton stopped him, saying he wanted to speak to him. Jerome, still thankful to have excuses which delayed his home-going, remained willingly. One other surprise was in store for him that night. Mr. Bolton, in his usual stilted and pedantic, but most distinct and unequivocal style, informed him that he had that evening been taking counsel with John Leyburn, as his most trusted friend, upon several important matters. That in the main John agreed with him, and that he wished to lose no time in telling him, Jerome Wellfield, that, after profound consideration, he had come to the conclusion that it would be for his own pleasure and his daughter’s happiness if a marriage between her and him–Wellfield–could be concluded. ‘If you feel warranted, by your feelings towards her, in proposing to her, you have my permission to do so. If not–you will excuse my speaking plainly–your visits here will have to cease, for I do not wish her happiness to be imperilled.’ Wellfield passed his hand over his eyes: he was almost stunned. At that moment things stood out clearly, and, so it seemed to him, the right bearings of them. To think of ever marrying Sara now was hopeless. Love must be cast aside, and duty embraced instead. He was perhaps not conscious that he was elaborately and ingeniously evading and concealing the truth, when he said: ‘But for feeling sure that I should displease you exceedingly, and that it would be an ill return for your benefits, for a penniless fellow like myself to speak to her, I should have proposed to her to-night.’ Mr. Bolton’s face brightened.