she seems a pure good woman in spite of all. I suppose
in a woman's sensitive and weaker nature good and evil are less
distinct, more shaded into each other. After all, I think I would trust
my life to the word of this daring law-breaker." And Errington recalled
the expressive tones of her voice, surprised to feel again the strange
thrill which shivered through him when she had looked straight into his
eyes, her own aglow with momentary defiance, and said, "Had it to be
done again, I'd do it!" He had never been brought face to face with real
emotion before. He knew such a thing existed; that it led like most
things to good and to evil; that it was exceedingly useful to poets, who
often touched him, and to actors, who did not; but in real every-day
life he had rarely, if ever, seen it. The people with whom he associated
were rich, well born, well trained; a crumpled rose leaf here and there
was the worst trouble in their easy, conventional, luxurious lives. Of
course he had met men on the road to ruin who swore and drank and
gambled and generally disgraced themselves. Such cases, however, did not
affect him much; he only touched such characters with moral tongs. Now
this delicate, refined girl had humbled herself before him. Her sweet
varying tones, her moist glowing eyes, the indescribable tremulous
earnestness which was the undertone of all she said, her determined
efforts for self-command, made a deep impression on him. Was she right
when she said that from him "wisdom by one entrance was quite shut out?"
At all events he felt, though he did not consciously acknowledge it even
to himself, that this impulsive, inexperienced girl, whom he strove to
look down upon from the unsullied heights of his own integrity, had
revealed to him something of life's inner core which had hitherto been
hidden from his sight.

But all this dreaming was unpardonable waste of time when so much
serious work lay before him. So Errington resolutely turned from his
unusual and disturbing reverie, dipped his pen in the ink, and began to
write steadily.

CHAPTER XX.

PLENARY ABSOLUTION.

Katherine never could distinctly remember what she did after leaving
Errington. She was humbled in the dust--crushed, dazed. She felt that
every one must perceive the stamp of "felon" upon her.

The passionate desire to restore his rightful possessions to Errington,
to confess all, had carried her through the dreadful interview. She was
infinitely