"My dear," said Robert Mannering, looking out towards the low hills, and speaking with a little hesitation, "I think that Anthony had a difficult duty to perform--" "Yes, yes, go on," said Winifred, trying to govern her voice. "And that he shrank from it." She could no longer laugh as she had laughed the night before. A sickening feeling came over her. Was this lie actually living, spreading, destroying? Her eyes filled with a rush of tears. She lifted her hand in mute indignation. "You--his friend!--you believe that!" He was silent again, and then said slowly,-- "Perhaps neither you nor I are fair judges, Winifred. You naturally think of Anthony, whom you have known all your life, and I think of Margaret Hare. Remember that her child was in all justice the heir, and remember what the poor mother has suffered." "O, I remember!" said Winifred, recovering herself, and standing upright, with the full light of the sky in her face; "and I remember, too, who it was that spoke to old Mr Tregennas for the child. It is only I who recollect at all, I think. And it seems to me that there is little use in knowing people all one's life long, as you say, if that knowledge falls away into doubt the instant our trust in them is tried. If you believe this story, Mr Mannering, pray let me be the person to tell him. I may meet him now; at any rate, I am sure to have an opportunity." "As you like," Mr Robert said, gravely. "Good by, my dear. I am afraid there is pain in store for us all." But, although he was the first to say good by, it was Winifred who left him standing by the gate watching her, as she went resolutely along with a quickened step, and the light still on her face. "True woman, true woman, she will not fail him," said Mr Robert to himself, shaking his head sadly. "Poor boy, I can't think of him without being sorry from the bottom of my heart, and yet it was an evil thing to do to Margaret Hare's child. I wish Pitt had not told us--I wish--" And then he turned and went back again. Winifred walked swiftly on for about half a mile, slackening her pace as she became aware that she was going too fast, and trying to lose the consciousness that she had come here to meet Anthony Miles, for it was only when the pitiful feeling was very strong in her heart that it overcame a secret repugnance, and every now and then this last grew into a kind of startled shyness. Presently she heard wheels, and saw the pony-carriage coming towards her with Anthony driving. Her first impulse was to nod and smile, and pass on as if the meeting were accidental, but the next moment she was ashamed of its prompting, and stood still bravely. Ah, how strange it was that she should need any bravery where Anthony was concerned! It evidently pleased him that she should have stopped, for it was with a radiant countenance that he drew up and jumped out, and asked what had brought her so far from Thorpe.