He felt that Rose was terribly troubled, but he could not quite realise what it was to her to disturb her hardly-won peace of mind and calm of conscience.

“If it were not for the money!” she faltered.  “I shall get to long for that money; so many people become horrid when they have a lawsuit about a fortune.  It has always seemed to me that if the money is only for one’s self one might leave it alone, and then, after all, if we went to law and failed, things would be much worse than they were before.”

“Well,” said Edmund, slightly exasperated but controlling himself.  “I don’t mean to do anything definite yet, but we ought to find out if we can make a case of it.  We can always stop in time if we can’t get what we want, but it’s worth while to try.  It is not merely the money—­the less you dwell on that the better.  Seriously, I think it would be very wrong that, through any fastidiousness of yours, David’s memory should not be cleared if it is possible to clear it.”

The last shot had this time reached the mark.  After a few minutes’ silence Rose said in a very low voice: 

“But then, what can I do about it?” He felt that she was hurt, but he knew he had gained his point.

“I don’t think you can do anything at this moment but allow me a free hand; I could not do what is necessary without your permission and your trust—­and, presently, let me compare notes with you freely.  I know what your judgment is worth when you can get rid of those scruples.”

“Very well.”

But still she did not turn round.  Indeed, the wounds in her mind were too deep and too fresh to make the subject give her anything but quivering pain.  It was impossible that Edmund should suspect half of what she felt.  He naturally concluded that much of her present suffering showed how unconquerably Rose’s love for Sir David had outlived the strain put on it.  To Rose it would have been much simpler if it had been so.  But in fact part of the trial to Rose was the doubt of her own past love, and of her own present loyalty.  Had she ever truly loved David while he was still her hero “sans peur et sans reproche,” could that love have been killed at all?  So much anxiety to be sure of having forgiven, so much self-reproach for the failure of her marriage, such an acute, overwhelming sense of shame, and such shrinking from all that was ugly and low, were intermixed and confused in poor Rose’s mind that it was no wonder even Edmund, with all his tact and his tenderness, blundered at times.

They were quite silent for some moments.  Edmund wanted to see her face but he could not.  Presently she looked into the glass over the chimney-piece, and in the glass he saw with remorse a little tear about to fall.