h of
February, 18-!" It was August when he was at the Cote Dorion, the 5th
August, 18-, and this paper was February 10th, 18-. He read on, in the
month-old paper, with every nerve in his body throbbing now: a fierce
beating that seemed as if it must burst the heart and the veins:

"--Captain Thomas Fairing, of the Royal Fusileers, whose career in our
midst has been marked by an honourable sense of public and private duty.
Our fellow-citizens will unite with us in congratulating the bride,
whose previous misfortunes have only increased the respect in which she
is held. If all remember the obscure death of her first husband (though
the body was not found, there has never been a doubt of his death),
and the subsequent discovery that he had embezzled trust-moneys to the
extent of twenty-five thousand dollars, thereby setting the final seal
of shame upon a misspent life, destined for brilliant and powerful
uses, all have conspired to forget the association of our beautiful
and admired townswoman with his career. It is painful to refer to these
circumstances, but it is only within the past few days that the estate
of the misguided man has been wound up, and the money he embezzled
restored to its rightful owners; and it is better to make these remarks
now than repeat them in the future, only to arouse painful memories in
quarters where we should least desire to wound.

"In her new life, blessed by a romantic devotion known and admired by
all, Mrs. Fairing and her husband will be followed by the affectionate
good wishes of the whole community."

The man on the hearth-stone shrank back at the sight of the still, white
face, in which the eyes were like sparks of fire. His impulse had been
to go over and offer the hand of sympathy to the stricken man, but his
simple mind grasped the fact that no one might, with impunity, invade
this awful quiet. Charley was frozen in body, but his brain was awake
with the heat of "a burning fiery furnace."

Seven months of unconscious life-seven months of silence--no sight, no
seeing, no knowing; seven months of oblivion, in which the world had
buried him out of ken in an unknown grave of infamy! Seven months--and
Kathleen was married again to the man she had always loved. To the world
he himself was a rogue and thief. Billy had remained silent--Billy, whom
he had so befriended, had let decent men heap scorn and reproaches on
his memory. Here was what the world thought of him--he read the lines