rector, who had stood looking on, stupefied with what he heard, "did
Hannah do wrong, not to bear witness against me?"

"Hannah never does wrong," the rector said, rousing himself, and going a
step nearer to her he took her cold, clammy hand between his own, and
held it there, while he continued: "Mr. Jerrold, you reproach your
sister for her silence, but consider what her speaking would have done
for you! If you feel it so keenly when only you and I know of it, what
would you have felt had the whole world been made cognizant of the fact?
I do not know the circumstances of your father's crime. Probably there
was great provocation, and that it was done in self-defense, and if so
the gallows would not have been his punishment, though a prison might,
and do you think that as the son of a felon you could have stood where
you do now in the world's estimation? No; instead of reproaches, which I
do not believe spring from a sense of justice, rather thank your sister
who has given all the brightness of her life to shield her father from
punishment and you from disgrace."

The rector spoke more severely than was his wont, for he felt a contempt
for the man whose real character he now understood better than he had
before; but his words had a good effect, for Burton saw the truth there
was in them, and turning to his sister, who was sobbing piteously he
said:

"Forgive me, Hannah, if I seemed unjust. I am so stunned and hurt that I
am not myself, and do not know what I say. I am glad you kept silent; to
have spoken would have been to ruin me; but why, having kept the secret
so long, did you not keep it longer? Why did not father take it with
him to his grave? Surely no good can come from wounding and humiliating
me so cruelly."