Madge, pale-faced and distressed, showed only too plainly that she had need of all the courage she possessed to lift her eyes to his.

Yet she was not going to shirk her duty; she was going to make her apology, and the apology of the household, just as the judge, her father, would have wished to have it made.
It was a little speech, conned beforehand, which she spoke--a quaint mixture of her own girlish wording and the formal phrases which she felt the occasion demanded.

Courthope never knew precisely what she said.

His feelings were up and in tumult, like the winds on a gusty day, and he was embarrassed for her embarrassment, while he smiled for the very joy of it all.
Madge confessed with grief that Eliz had mistaken Xavier for Courthope.
She said the man from the village had shown them what folly it was to suppose that the gentleman could be Xavier's accomplice.

She begged that same gentleman's pardon very humbly.