‘Your niece, ma’am. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. What was it she had expected? Surely her moods were getting a little out of hand. ’ This was Leonardo’s philosophy. Miss Mary and me, and Martha too sometimes. He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon. ‘I don’t want a hue and cry after me, I thank you. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night.
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