Christian burst into tears.  All her forlorn, unprotected youth, the more forlorn that in her father’s lifetime it was under a certain hollow sham of protection; the total desolation afterward, exposed to every insult of the bitter world, or at least that bitter portion of it which is always ready to trample down a woman if she is helpless, and to hunt her down if she is strong enough to help herself—­all this was gone by forever.  She was afraid of nothing any more.  She did not need to defend herself again.  She had been taken out of all her misery, and placed in the safe shelter of a good man’s love.  What had she done to deserve such blessedness?  What could she do to show her recognition of the same?  She could only weep, poor child! and feel like a child, whom the Great Father has ceased to punish—­forgiven, and taken back to peace.

“I think,” she said, looking up from her hiding-place, “I am so happy, I should almost like to die.”

“No, no.  Not just yet, my foolish little woman,” said Dr. Grey.  “We have, I trust, a long lifetime before us.  Mine seems only just beginning.”

Strange, but true.  He was forty-five and she twenty-one and yet to both this was the real spring-time of their lives.

After a pause, during which he sat thinking rather deeply, the master rose and rang the bell.

“Barker, do you know whether Sir Edwin Uniacke is still in Avonsbridge?”

Barker had seen him not an hour ago, near the senate-house.

“Will you go to his lodgings?—­let me see; can you make out this address, my dear?” and Dr. Grey pointedly handed over the letter—­the fatal letter, which had doubtless been discussed by every servant in the house—­to his wife.  “Yes, that is it.  Go, Barker, present my compliments, and say that Mrs. Grey and myself shall be happy to see Sir Edwin at the Lodge this morning.”

“Very well, master,” said Barker, opening his round eyes to their roundest as he disappeared from the room.

“What shall you say to him?” asked Christian.

“The plain truth,” answered Dr. Grey, smiling.  “It is the only weapon, offensive or defensive, that an honest man need ever use.”

But there was no likelihood of using it against Sir Edwin, for Barker brought word that he was absent from his lodgings, and his return was quite indefinite.  So in some other way must be inquired into and met this cruel gossip which had been set afloat, and doubtless was now swimming about every where on the slow current of Avonsbridge society.

“But perhaps it may be needless, alter all,” said Dr. Grey, cheerfully.  “We give ourselves a good deal of trouble by fancying our affairs are as important to the world as they are to ourselves.  Whether or not, be content, my darling.  One and one makes two.  I think we two can face the world.”