er Trevlyn. You thought him guilty of the murder of Paul
Linmere!"

A ghastly pallor overspread her face; she caught her breath in gasps, and
clutched frantically the arm of Castrani.

"Hush!" she said. "Do not say those dreadful words aloud; the very walls
have ears sometimes! Remember their utterance puts the life of a fellow
mortal in peril!"

"Have no fear; I am going to right the wrong."

"Leave this punishment to God. It would kill me to see him brought before
a hissing crowd to be tried for his life. Oh, Mr. Castrani, I implore
you--"

"Calm yourself, my child. I shall never knowingly injure Mr. Trevlyn. He
deserves no punishment for a sin he never committed. He is guiltless of
_that deed_ as you are yourself!"

"Guiltless--Archer guiltless!" she cried, her face wearing the pitiful,
strained look of agonized suspense. "I do not quite comprehend. Say it
again--oh, say it again!"

"Margaret, Archer Trevlyn never lifted a hand against Paul
Linmere--never! He is innocent before God and the angels!"

She dropped her head upon her hands, and burst into tears--the first she
had shed since that terrible night when that blasted revelation had, as
she thought, sealed up the fountain of tears forever. Castrani did not
seek to sooth her; he judged rightly that she would be better for this
abandonment to a woman's legitimate source of relief. She lifted her wet
face at last--but what a change was there! The transparent paleness had
given place to the sweet wild rose color which had once made Margie so
very lovely, and the sad eyes were brilliant as stars, through the mist
of tears.

"I believe it--yes, I believe it?" she said, softly,--reverently. "I
thank God for giving me the assurance. You tell me so. You would not,
unless it were true!"

"No, Margaret; I would not," replied Castrani, strongly affected. "Heaven
forbid that I should raise hopes which I cannot verify. When you are calm
enough to understand, I will explain it fully."

"I am calm now. Go on."

"I must trouble you with a little, only a little, of my own private
history, in order that you may understand what follows. I am, as you
know, a Cuban by birth, but my father, only, was Spanish. My mother was
a native of Boston, who married my father for love, and went with him to
his Southern home. I was an only child, and when I was about twelve years
of age, my parents adopted a girl, some four years my junior. She was the
orphan child of poor parents,