than of yours;" and as he spoke he took both her hands and
looked into her face, and his eyes also were full of tears. "You
may be sure of this, that neither I nor Edith will ever think you
guilty."

"Dearest Edith," she said; she had never before called Sir
Peregrine's daughter-in-law by her Christian name, and as she now did
so she almost felt that she had sinned. But Sir Peregrine took it in
good part. "She is dearest," he said; "and be sure of this, that she
will be true to you through it all."

And so they stood for a while without further speech. He still held
both her hands, and the tears still stood in his eyes. Her eyes were
turned to the ground, and from them the tears were running fast. At
first they ran silently, without audible sobbing, and Sir Peregrine,
with his own old eyes full of salt water, hardly knew that she was
weeping. But gradually the drops fell upon his hand, one by one at
first, and then faster and faster; and soon there came a low sob, a
sob all but suppressed, but which at last forced itself forth, and
then her head fell