If the death of the little hapless child was attributable to an overdose of the cordial, she had certainly not given it purposely.

Could I judge her?
Yet, an honest, loyal man like Lance ought not to be so cruelly deceived.

I felt sure myself that if she spoke to him--if she told him her story with the same pathos with which she had told it to me, he would forgive her--he must forgive her.

I could not reconcile it with my conscience to keep silence, I could not, and I believed that the truth might be told with safety.

So, after long thinking and deliberation, I came to the conclusion that Lance must know, and that she must tell him herself.
It was in the middle of a bright, sunshiny afternoon when they returned.
When Lance brought his wife into the drawing-room he seemed very anxious over her.
"Frances does not seem well," he said to me.