expiating pains. If I were to return to Orleigh, I would die morally, of that I am sure, because it would be a shirking of the consequences which my foolish act has brought down on me."
"There may be something in that," said Welsh.
"I will write to Lady Lamerton and tell her everything and assure her that my decision is irrevocable. I have caused her so much pain, I have behaved so badly to my father, I have been so ungrateful for all the happy days and pleasant comforts of dear, dear Orleigh"—her eyes filled with tears, and she was unable to finish her sentence.
Mr. Welsh said nothing.
"No," she said, after a pause—"No, Mr. Welsh, I cannot in conscience go home, there to dissemble and lie to Mrs. Cribbage and to neighbours; and never to be able to shake off the sense of self-reproach for not having frankly accepted the results of my own misconduct. Do you know, Mr. Welsh, I was angry with my father because I thought he was evading his retribution?"
Mr. Welsh, usually a talkative man, felt no inclination now to say a word.
"Mr. Welsh," said Arminell, "I ask you to go to Portland Place, call on Lady Hermione Woodhead, she is a practical woman of the world; lay the entire case before her, and see if she does not say, 'Throw her in again, for Heaven's sake, so as to keep the story out of the papers.'"
"And if her ladyship does not say so?"
"She will say it."
"If she does not, but asks me to bring you to her, will you go to Portland Place?"
"No; my resolution is taken."
Welsh stood up and paced the room.
"What the deuce will you do?" he asked. "You are quite a girl, and a pretty girl, and confoundedly inexperienced. You cannot, you must not live alone. My
