"No, Enid," he said at last.

Her face grew troubled and perplexed.

"But the jury said that he was guilty! You think that they were wrong?

Perhaps some new evidence has been found! I shall be glad for Cynthia's sake if her father is innocent."

"Shall you, Enid?"

"Yes; for it must be such a terrible thing for a girl to know that her father has committed a great crime. She can never forget it; her whole life must be overshadowed by the remembrance. I am so thankful to think that my own dear father--although his end was tragic--lived a good and honorable life. It would be awful for Cynthia if she believed her father to be a wicked man!"

Hubert turned away his face. It was terrible to him to hear her speak thus. It seemed to him that, whenever an impulse came upon him to speak the truth, she herself made the truth appear unspeakable. Better perhaps to leave the matter where it stood. It was a mere question of transferring a burden from Cynthia's strong to Enid's feeble shoulders.

"Whether Westwood was really innocent or guilty," he said, with an effort, "is not for us to decide--now."

"No; and therefore we must do our best for Cynthia and for ourselves,"

said Enid, with sudden resolution. "I did not know before that there was even a doubt about his guilt; but, if so, our way is all the clearer, Hubert. You are not hesitating because you do not want to marry a convict's daughter, are you?"

"Not at all."

"Then it is because you are afraid that we--that I perhaps--shall be hurt? I know that Flossy and the General feel strongly on the point.

But, Hubert, I absolve you--I give you leave. In my father's name I speak; for I am sure that in another world where all things are known he sees as I do--that the innocent must not be punished for the guilty.

If you love Cynthia, Hubert, marry her; and I will give you my best wishes for your happiness. I am sure that it should be so--else why should God have permitted you to love each other?"

"Enid, you are an angel!" cried Hubert.

He seized her hand and pressed it to his lips. She felt tears hot upon her fingers, and knew that they came from his eyes. She bent down and kissed his forehead.

"God bless you dear!" she said. "I am so happy myself that I cannot bear you and Cynthia to be unhappy. Will you tell her when she comes in that I want you to marry her as soon as possible? She is so good, so noble, that I am sure you will be happy with her. And you can go abroad together if you are married soon. Good-bye Hubert! We shall always think of each other lovingly, shall we not?"

"I shall think of you--gratefully," he said, with his face bowed down upon his hands--"as of an angel from heaven!"

"Oh, no--only as a poor, weak, erring little girl, who broke her word to you and had far more happiness than she deserved. And now good-bye."

He would have detained her--perhaps to say more words of gratitude--perhaps to say something else; but she withdrew herself from his clasping hand and quietly left the room. She knew that he was better alone. She went down-stairs, let herself out of the house, and met Cynthia on the steps. The girl was just returning after a hurried walk round and round the square.

"Go to him," said Enid softly. "He wants help and comfort, and he wants your love. You will be very happy by-and-by."

And Cynthia went.

CHAPTER XLVII.

Cynthia came softly into the room. She looked timidly towards Hubert's chair, then rushed forward and rang the bell violently. She had had some fear of the result of Enid's visit, and her fear was certainly justified.

Hubert had fainted away when his visitor had left the room.

It was not until some time afterwards that Cynthia allowed him to talk again. She had medicaments of various kinds to apply, and insisted upon his being perfectly quiet. She had wanted him to go to bed again; but he had resisted this proposition; and, in consequence, he was still in the sitting-room, though lying upon the sofa, at the hour of half-past eight that evening, when the light was fading, and Cynthia was at his side.

"You feel better now, do you not?" she said to him.

"Yes, thank you." The tone was curiously dispirited.

"I must call Jenkins, and you must go to bed."

He caught her hand.

"Not yet, Cynthia--I want to say something."

"To-morrow," she suggested.

"No, not to-morrow--to-night. I am quite well able to talk. Cynthia, where is your father?"

The question was utterly unexpected.

"My father?" she echoed. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I have an impression that he is in England, and that you have seen him lately."

"If I had," said Cynthia tremulously, "I should be bound not to tell any one."

"Ah, that is true! And you would not trust even me," he remarked, with a great sigh. "Well, I suppose that you are right!"

"I trust you perfectly," she said.

"You have no reason to do so. Cynthia, do you know why Enid Vane came to-day?"

"Yes,--she told me."

"She is engaged to Mr. Evandale. She has set me free."

There was a silence. Cynthia did not move; and at last Hubert said, in a stifled voice--

"I love one woman, and one only. What can I say to her?"

"Nothing but that," said Cynthia softly; and then she turned and kissed him.

"I dare not say even that," he muttered.

"Why not? You told me once of an obstacle--Enid Vane was the obstacle, was she not?"

"One obstacle. But there was another."

"Another!" exclaimed Cynthia. "What could that be?"

She was kneeling beside him, her hand locked fast in his, her arm upon his shoulder. A sort of sob broke from his lips.