"Yes, Laurence, I know. But he was willing I should be sacrificed to hide his sin--I, who loved him so--that hurts me terribly, Laurence; that is not easy to forgive."
"Is it not possible that he agreed to this man Carson's proposal to save you from the truth--that you might never know?"
"Even so, it was for his own sake--for his memory's sake."
"May be, yes. But that was only natural, Olive. Would it not be his great desire that you should think the best of him? And, after all, dear, this act of your father's was the act of days long bygone--thirty years or more ago--and from then to the time of his death he led an upright, honest life. Think of him, not as Trall's accomplice, dear, but as the father you knew. Try and do that, Olive--will you?"
"If you wish it, Laurence--yes, I will try."
And so the fateful missive was destroyed, and they made up their minds that they would put their knowledge behind them, and slip back again into the old life as though it had never been. Their Hegira was before them--from their marriage they would date it. And that was to be very soon now. Yet there were details which must be settled before they finally dismissed the past. And with these Olive prepared to busy herself. Great as was her sorrow, she did not allow it to sadden her. She determined it should permeate her every-day existence. She was quietly cheerful, and ever amiable to her guests. She was kindly sympathetic to Aldean and Tui, and listened with all patience to the disquisitions of Miss Slarge, even unto the doings of Ala Mahozim, the god of fortifications. Of Mrs. Purcell she saw little in these days. That good lady was indefatigably scouring the county, renewing early friendships, and conducting an orderly canvass in favour of Olive, and to the denunciation of her bigamist husband. Maids and matrons lifted up their hands in horror at Mrs. Purcell's revelations; men, old and young, expressed violent desires to have Carson within boot-reach. So vigorously did the clever old lady raise the countryside in Olive's favour, that the tide of sympathy soon set strongly towards the Manor House, and Miss Bellairs--Mrs. Carson no longer on friendly tongues--was pitied, petted, called upon, and duly wept over.