from New York. I have already
secured my passage on the 'Paris.'"

"And you will not allow me to recompense you for all you have done?"
whispered Alice, bravely struggling to keep back her tears.

"Yes; I will," resolutely answered Atwater. "Go on lifting up the
lowly, bind up their bruised hearts, and all good men will bless
your name. That will be my reward!"

"Wait a moment," faltered Alice, as she sped away.

Left alone in the room, Atwater, gazing into the fire, listened
for the returning footfall of the woman whose face had long haunted
his pillow.

"You alone, of all the world," said the beautiful woman, as she
glided to his side. "You alone are entitled to my confidence.

"Only you should know the story of my life!"

She handed him the letter which had been Arthur Ferris' eternal
farewell to the woman who had never even borne his name.

He started forward, with arms extended, as he read that last message
from beyond the sea. "It means that I am to keep your innocent
secret!"

"There is nothing hidden now," the loving woman shyly said. "IT
MEANS THAT YOU ARE NOT TO GO!"

They were still tranced there in their happiness when the silver
bells chimed out again. The ruddy fire-light lit up their faces,
glowing with the hidden love which had at last found its voice as
the shadow of parting fell upon them.

"Auf wiederschen, dearest heart!" cried Atwater. "We will lead
the noble life together, please God, to the end!"

"Hand in hand, and heart to heart," whispered the loving woman,
whose happy eyes saw no cloud of the past now lowering upon her.
And, even in the flush of the new-born joy she was true to her
solemn vow.

"No shame rests upon my father's name," she murmured, that night,
in her prayers. "The works that men do live after them, and in his
name I will build up a monument of good works over the tomb where
the secret of his life's temptation lies buried with him."

The gleaming stars shone down tenderly upon the happy lover speeding
homeward, for the bells of joy were ringing in his awakened heart.
"I must try and get these glad tidings to our wanderers abroad,"
mused Atwater.

And this, stripped of some merely personal happenings, with a
gracious confirmation by Alice, was the budget of good news which
greeted the Witherspoons on their arrival at Calcutta.

"Jack!" joyously cried Madame Francine, "I have only been waiting
for this official confirmation for some months. Alice writes m