ashamed of her manners.

"I hoped you would not take her. I wanted to keep her for myself; but
my duty to her was clear.

"And now, squire, you know all about it. I have been wrong to keep her
so long from you, I grant; but I can only say that I have done my duty,
as far as I could, and that, though I have made many mistakes, my
conscience is clear, that I did the best, as far as it seemed to me at
the time."



Chapter 5: A Quiet Time.


As the sergeant was telling the story, the squire had sat with his face
shaded by his hand, but more than one tear had dropped heavily on the
table.

"I wish I could say as much," he said sadly, when the other ended. "I
wish that I could say that my conscience is clear, Mr. Wilks. I have
misjudged you cruelly, and that without a tithe of the reason, which
you had, for thinking me utterly heartless and cruel. You will have
heard that I never got those letters my son wrote me, after he was ill,
and that, when I returned home and received them, I posted to
Southampton, only to find that I was too late; and that, for a year, I
did all in my power to find the child. Still, all this is no excuse. I
refused to forgive him, returned his letters unanswered, and left him,
as it seemed, to his fate.