over Westmoreland House?  It could not be done as quietly as she had handed that letter to Father Mark.  The house had been bought with the great lump sum Madame Danterre had accumulated in Florence—­much of that money had been put in the bank before Sir David died.  Perhaps if they were ready to come to terms, as Father Mark had said, an arrangement would be suggested in which Molly would not be expected to refund what she had spent, and would have the possession of Westmoreland House and its contents.  The sale would realise enough to save her from actual want, and yet she would not be receiving a pension from Lady Rose.  Her mind got out of gear and flashed through these thoughts until, unable to check it in any way, she burst into tears.  She felt the self-deception of such plans with physical pain.  What was that money in the bank at Florence but blackmail gathered in during Sir David’s life?  “Why cannot I be straight even now?” she whispered.  She was still sitting on the couch with one leg drawn up under her, gazing intently at the ground.  No, the only money she possessed was L2000 invested at 31/2 per cent.  “L70 a year—­that is less than I have given Carey, or the cook, or the butler.”

The fact was that while her heart and soul had gone forward in dumb pain in utter darkness with the single aim of undoing the sin done, the mind still lagged and reasoned.  This is a peculiar agony, and Molly had to drink of that agony.

Gradually and mercilessly her reason told her that an arrangement with Lady Rose, the appearance of having the right of possession in Westmoreland House, the readiness of all concerned to bury the story, and the possession of a fair income, would make it possible to live in her own class quietly but, if tactfully, with a good repute.  Then the thought of any kind of compromise became intolerable to her, and she realised that it was a fancy picture, not a real temptation.

To pretend that Westmoreland House was her own she could not do, but what was the alternative?  Dragging poverty and shame, and with no opportunity for hiding what had passed, for living it down.  Even if she did the impossible to her pride and consented to receive a good allowance from Lady Rose, it would not be at all the same in the world’s view as the dignified income that could be raised from Westmoreland House, and from her mother’s jewels and furniture.  Her fingers unconsciously touched the pearls round her neck.  Surely she need not speculate as to how her mother obtained the magnificent jewels which she had worn up to the end?  Then more light came—­hard and cold, but clear.  If Molly had been innocent these things might have been so, but Molly had committed a fraud on a great scale.  It would be by the mercy of the injured that she would be spared the rigours of the law.  It was by the supreme mercy of God that she had had the chance of making the sacrifice before it was forced from her.  And could she shrink