He relapsed again into silence, and John was too much wrapped up in his own thoughts to question him further.

They reached the little shop at last, and Jessica ran lightly and quickly up to the bedroom.  She was welcomed warmly by Lucy, who had grown to like the girl, and had been greatly upset by her absence.

“I’m glad you have come back, dear,” she whispered, as Jessica bent over her.  “Where have you been?”

“To London, dear Mrs. Ashford.  I did not know you were ill.  I came back with Mr. Ashford.”

“John!” exclaimed Lucy, the colour rising in her face.  “My father as well?”

“Yes,” said the girl.  “I will call them.”

She did so, and a moment later John and Mr. Harker entered the room.

“Here he is, dear, you shall tell him the news yourself, while I take the horse back,” said the kindly John.  He bent over and kissed her; and Lucy followed him with wistful, adoring eyes, as he went out accompanied by Jessica.

The next half-hour was an affecting one for father and daughter.  Harker could hardly believe the good news; for so long had they tried and succeeded in keeping the truth back from Ashford, that it seemed incredible indeed that he had forgiven freely and wholly.  Mr. Harker looked a different being when, after kissing his daughter affectionately, he left her and went down to the little parlour.

John was sitting smoking his pipe; but he started up when the old man entered.

“What is the matter?” he said, as he looked at his pale face.  “Is she worse?”

“No,” said Harker.  “She is better, thank Heaven!  John Ashford,” he continued humbly, “I have come to beg your forgiveness for the pain we have caused you.  I knew my girl to be a good girl, although she had once been so foolish.  I knew she would make you a true loving wife, in spite of her sin.  It was I who overcame her scruples, and bade her marry you.  I did it for the best.  I did it that she might be happy; for I knew how she loved you, and she so feared to lose your love and respect.  She tells me you have forgiven her, but can you forgive me?”

John grasped his hand.

“Of course I do,” he said heartily.  “You did it for her so I have nothing to forgive.  If my poor darling had only plucked up courage and told me all, the hour we were man and wife, she would have learned how dearly I loved her, and it would have saved you both many unhappy years.”

Tears of gratitude stood in Harker’s eyes, as he returned the handclasp.

“Heaven bless you, John,” he murmured.  “Not many men would be so merciful.  We will never speak of this again.  You will not repent your generosity.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Ashford; struck by something unusual in the old man’s voice.

“I am going back to London,” said Harker, smiling grimly, as in anticipation of a pleasant task.  “I have work to do, an account to settle now—­for Lucy and myself.  You don’t know all yet, John; you don’t know, you never will know, all that Lucy and I have suffered.”