ed with public scorn, bedraggled with public
contempt, crushed by the discovery of your mutual sin against that old
man, Isom Chase? Would you take her to your heart then, Morgan? Would
you be man enough to step out into the storm of scorn, and shoulder your
part of the load like a man?"

"If I found her in the lowest ditch I'd take her up, Judge, and I'd
marry her--if she'd have me then!" said Morgan, earnestly. "When a man's
careless and free, Judge, he sees things one way; when he comes up on a
short rope like this, he sees them another."

"You are right, Morgan," said the judge.

He walked the length of the room, hands clasped behind his back, his
head bent in thought. When he came back to the fire he stood a little
while before Morgan, looking at him with intent directness, like a
physician sounding for a baffling vagary which lies hidden in the
brain.

There was a question in his face which Morgan could not grasp. It gave
him a feeling of impending trouble. He shifted uneasily in his chair.

"Stay here until I return," commanded the judge. "I shall not be long."

"I'm here to take my medicine," reiterated Morgan, weakly. "I wouldn't
leave if the road was open to me, Judge."

Judge Maxwell went to the door, calling for Hiram. Hiram was not far
away. His candle was still burning; he came bobbing along the hall with
it held high so he could look under it, after the manner of one who had
been using candles all his life.

"My overcoat, Hiram, and my neck shawl," ordered the judge. He turned to
Morgan, who was standing on the hearth.

"Wait for me, I'll not be long away."

"It's a blusterin' and a blowin' mighty bad, Judge. I'll get my
coat----"

"No, no, Hiram; there's something for you to do here. Watch that man;
don't let him leave."

"He ain't gwine a-leave, Judge, sah," said Hiram with calm significance.

Hiram held up the great frieze coat, and the judge plunged his arms into
it. Then the old negro adjusted the shawl about his master's shoulders,
and tucked the ends of it inside the coat, buttoning that garment over
them, to shield the judge's neck from the driving rain.

The judge turned back into the room to throw another stick on the fire.
The lamp was burning low; he reached over to turn up the wick. The flame
jumped, faltered, went out.

"Hah, I've turned it out, Morgan. Well, no matter. You'll not need more
light than the fire throws. Make yourself comfortable, Morgan."

With a word to Hi