the accused man's defense, or in her own? Nothing; she could
only wait.

A square old-fashioned wooden clock on the mantelpiece of the sitting
room had just droned off seven mellow hours, when the faint echo of its
music was drowned by the crunch of gravel; there was the quick step of
somebody coming up the drive; then the wooden steps gave hollow notice.
The visitor's advent was announced again by the brass knocker on the
front door.

"I'll go," said Allis, as her mother rose. The girl knew who it was
that knocked, not because of any sane reason; she simply knew it was
Mortimer.

When she opened the door he stepped back hesitatingly. Was he not a
criminal--was he not about to leave his position because of theft?

"Come in," she said, quietly; "I am glad you have come."

"Shall I? I just want to speak to you for a minute. I said I would come.
But I can't see anybody--just you, alone."

"I understand," she answered. "Come inside."

"I am going away," he began; "I can't stand it here."

"You have done nothing--nothing to clear yourself?"

"Nothing."

"And you won't?"

"No."

"Is this wise?"

"It is the inevitable."

They were silent for a little; they were both standing. The girl broke
the stillness.

"I am glad you have come, because I can tell you again that I know you
are innocent. I know it, because my heart repeats it a thousand times a
day. I listen to the small voice and I hear nothing else."

"You never waver--you never doubt?"

"Never."

"You never will?"

"Never."

"Then I care not. Other men have had misfortune thrust upon them and
have borne it without complaint, have had less to solace them than you
have given me now, and I should be a coward if I faltered. Some day
perhaps, you will know that I am worthy of your faith: God grant that
the knowledge brings you no fresh misery--there, forgive me, I have said
too much; I am even now a coward. If you will say good-bye I'll go."

"Good-bye, my hero." She raised her eyes, blurred with tears, and
held out her hand gropingly, as one searches in the dark, for the room
whirled like a storm cloud, and just faintly she could see the man's
strong face coming to her out of the gloom like the face of a god. He
took her hand. "Good-bye," his voice vibrated brokenly; "if--if Justice
wills that my innocence be known some day, may I come back? Will you
wait, believing in me for a little?"

"Forever."

He drew her to him by the hand he still clas