"
The others turned towards the door, but as they passed Winston, Miss
Barrington turned and touched his shoulder. The man, looking up
suddenly, saw her and her niece standing close beside her.
"Madam," he said hoarsely, though it was Maud Barrington he glanced at,
"the comedy is over. Well, I promised you an explanation, and now you
have it you will try not to think too bitterly of me. I cannot ask you
to forgive me."
The little white-haired lady pointed to the ears of wheat which stood
gleaming ruddy bronze in front of him.
"That," she said, very quietly, "will make it easier."
Maud Barrington said nothing, but every one in the room saw her
standing a moment beside the man, with a little flush on her face and
no blame in her eyes. Then she passed on, but short as it was the
pause had been very significant, for it seemed that whatever the elders
of the community might decide, the two women, whose influence was
supreme at Silverdale, had given the impostor absolution.
The girl could not analyze her feelings, but through them all a vague
relief was uppermost, for whatever he had been it was evident the man
had done one wrong only, and daringly, and that was a good deal easier
to forgive than several incidents in Courthorne's past would have been.
Then she was conscious that Miss Barrington's eyes were upon her.
"Aunt," she said, with a little tremor in her voice, "It is almost
bewildering. Still, one seemed to feel that what that man has done
could never have been the work of Lance Courthorne.
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