d_ to--a
foundation to rest upon--something I can know in my heart of hearts is
stable--despite any outward, traitorous _seeming_! Now forever I can be
loving, and loyal, in spite of all those signs which I see at last are
misleading."

Again and again she sought to envelope him with acceptable praises,
while he gazed fondly at her from that justified pride in his own
stanchness--murmuring, "Nance, you please me--you _please_ me!"

"Don't you see, dear? I couldn't reach you before. You gave me nothing
to believe in--not even God. That seeming lack of genuineness in you
stifled my soul. I could no longer even want to be good--and all that
for the lack of this dear foolish bit of realness in you."

"No one can know better than I that my nature is a faulty one,
Nance--"

"Say unfortunate, Allan--not faulty. I shall never again believe a fault
of you. How stupid a woman can be, how superficial in her judgments--and
what stupids they are who say she is intuitive! Do you know, I believed
in Bernal infinitely more than I can tell you, and Bernal made me
believe in everything else--in God and goodness and virtue and truth--in
all the good things we like to believe in--yet see what he did!"

"My dear, I know little of the circumstances, but--"

"It isn't _that_--I can't judge him in that--but this I must
judge--Bernal, when he saw I did not know who had been there, was
willing I should think it was you. To retain my respect he was willing
to betray you." She laughed, a little hard laugh, and seemed to be in
pain. "You will never know just what the thought of that boy has been to
me all these years, and especially this last week. But now--poor weak
Bernal! Poor _Judas_, indeed!" There was a kind of anguished bitterness
in the last words.

"My dear, try not to think harshly of the poor boy," remonstrated Allan
gently. "Remember that whatever his mistakes, he has a good heart--and
he is my brother."

"Oh! you big, generous, good-thinking boy, you--Can't you see that is
precisely what he _lacks_--a good heart? Oh, dearest, I needed this--to
show Bernal to me not less than to show you to me. There were grave
reasons why I needed to see you both as I see you this moment."

There were steps along the hall and a knock at the door.

"It must be Bernal," he said--"he was to leave about this time."

"I can't see him again."

"Just this once, dear--for _my_ sake! Come!"

Bernal stood in the doorway, hat in hand, his bag at h