"Thank you, it has overtaken her, and a very happy one she finds it."
A soft voice uttered the words, and an apparition appeared at the door,
which made all start and recoil with amazement--Jean Muir leaning on the
arm of Sir John.
"How dare you return?" began Edward, losing the self-control so long
preserved. "How dare you insult us by coming back to enjoy the mischief
you have done? Uncle, you do not know that woman!"
"Hush, boy, I will not listen to a word, unless you remember where you
are," said Sir John with a commanding gesture.
"Remember your promise: love me, forgive me, protect me, and do not
listen to their accusations," whispered Jean, whose quick eye had
discovered the letters.
"I will; have no fears, my child," he answered, drawing her nearer as he
took his accustomed place before the fire, always lighted when Mrs.
Coventry was down.
Gerald, who had been pacing the room excitedly, paused behind Lucia's
chair as if to shield her from insult; Bella clung to her mother; and
Edward, calming himself by a strong effort, handed his uncle the
letters, saying briefly, "Look at those, sir, and let them speak."
"I will look at nothing, hear nothing, believe nothing which can in any
way lessen my respect and affection for this young lady. She has
prepared me for this. I know the enemy who is unmanly enough to belie
and threaten her. I know that you both are unsuccessful lovers, and this
explains your unjust, uncourteous treatment now. We all have committed
faults and follies. I freely forgive Jean hers, and desire to know
nothing of them from your lips. If she has innocently offended, pardon
it for my sake, and forget the past."
"But, Uncle, we have proofs that this woman is not what she seems. Her
own letters convict her. Read them, and do not blindly deceive
yourself," cried Edward, indignant at his uncle's words.
A low laugh startled them all, and in an instant they saw the cause of
it. While Sir John spoke, Jean had taken the letters from the hand which
he had put behind him, a favorite gesture of his, and, unobserved, had
dropped them on the fire. The mocking laugh, the sudden blaze, showed
what had been done. Both young men sprang forward, but it was too late;
the proofs were ashes, and Jean Muir's bold, bright eyes defied them, as
she said, with a disdainful little gesture. "Hands off, gentlemen! You
may degrade yourselves to the work of detectives, but I am not a
prisoner yet. Poor Jean Muir you might harm, but Lady Coventry is beyond
your reach."
"Lady Coventry!" echoed the dismayed family, in varying tones of
incredulity, indignation, and amazement.
"Aye, my dear and honored wife," said Sir John, with a protecting arm
about the slender figure at his side; and in the act, the words, there
was a tender dignity that touched the listeners with pity and respect
for the deceived man. "Receive her as such, and for my sake, forbear all
further accusation," he continued steadily. "I know what I have done. I
have no fear that I shall repent it. If I am blind, let me remain so
till time opens my eyes. We are going away for a little while, and when
we return, let the old life return again, unchanged, except that Jean
makes sunshine for me as well as for you."