st voice, like one in a vacuum,
while he folded his tablet.

"Agnes," he said, "it has been cruel to a man of such a sceptical soul
as mine to educate him back from the faith he had acquired to the
unfaith he had tried to put behind him. Why did you do it? The
suppression of the truth is never excusable. The secret you might have
scattered with a word, when suspicion started against you, is now
diffused through every family and rendezvous in Kensington."

She looked miserable enough, and still received the stab of her guest's
magisterial tongue like an affliction from heaven.

"I had also become infected with this imputation," continued Duff
Salter. "All things around you looked sinister for a season. A kind
Providence has dispelled these black shadows, and I see you now the
victim of an immeasurable mistake. Your weakness and another's obstinacy
have almost ruined you. I shall save you with a cruel hand; let the
remorse be his who hoped to outlive society and its natural suspicions
by a mere absence."

"I will not let you upbraid him," spoke Agnes Wilt. "My weakness was the
whole mistake."

"Agnes," said the grave, bearded man, "you must walk through Kensington
to-morrow with me in the sight of the whole world."

She looked up and around a moment, and staggered toward a sofa, but
would have fallen had not Duff Salter caught her in his arms and placed
her there with tender strength. He whispered in her ear:

"Courage, little _mother_!"

CHAPTER VIII.

A REAL ROOF-TREE.

Ringing the bell at the low front step of a two-story brick dwelling,
Duff Salter was admitted by Mr. Knox Van de Lear, the proprietor, a
tall, plain, commonplace man, who scarcely bore one feature of his
venerable father. "Come in, Mr. Salter," bellowed Knox, "tea's just
a-waitin' for you. Pap's here. You know Cal, certain! This is my good
lady, Mrs. Van de Lear. Lottie, put on the oysters and waffles! Don't
forgit the catfish. There's nothing like catfish out of the Delaware,
Mr. Salter."

"Particularly if they have a corpse or two to flavor them," said Calvin
Van de Lear in a low tone.

Mrs. Knox Van de Lear, a fine, large, blonde lady, took the head of the
table. She had a sweet, timid voice, quite out of quantity with her bone
and flesh, and her eyelashes seemed to be weak, for they closed together
often and in almost regular time, and the delicate lids were quite as
noticeable as her bashful blue eyes.

"Lottie," said Rev.