The simplicity of the words held them silent. Brother and sister looked at her with a kind of awe in their eyes. It was as if another world had opened to their rather bewildered gaze.
"I want to do right to those who have been so good to me, and to my father and my grandfather before me."
Somehow that speech, gentleness itself, yet sharp as a sword, brought the blood to Lady Wargrave's face. In a flash she saw and felt the justification of her brother's amazing deed. This devoted woman in her selflessness held the master key to life and Fate; in a flash of insight she saw that groundlings and grovelers like themselves were powerless before it. Somehow those words, that bearing, solved the mystery. She could no longer blame her brother; he had been caught in the toils of an irresistible force.
"Mrs. Sanderson"—there was reverence now in the harsh voice—"you are the best judge of what is right. We are content to leave the matter to your discretion." Even if the accomplished tactician was uppermost in Charlotte's words, in the act of uttering them was a large rather noble simplicity.
The Duke nodded acquiescence.
"I should like the present arrangement to go on," said Harriet. "Perhaps the truth will have to be known some time, but let it come out after we are dead, when it can hurt nobody."
Lady Wargrave drew a long breath of relief and gratitude.
"You are very wise," she said.
But the Duke took her up at once with a saturnine
