d ever tell. The two of them were not different
anyway. But you--! You could never forget."

"I know," said he. "Yet it is my happiness against hers, and I have made
up my mind. No living soul can ever learn of this. I am safe there.
Chalmers will never come back. Nor could he ever know if he did. And
so--"

"But the blood," I said, trembling with the thought. "What of that?"

"God help us!" he answered, beating his knuckles on his jaws. "How can I
say? But, come what may, I have decided! That child is now Julianna!
Give her to me!"

He took the infant in his arms again, pressing it close to him, as if it
were a nettle which must be grasped with full courage to avoid the
pricks of its thousand barbs.

"What are you?" he whispered to the new Julianna. "What will you be?
What is your birthright?"

Well I remember his words, spoken in that half-broken voice; they asked
questions which have not been answered yet, I tell you! And yet little
attention I paid to them at the moment, for the mischief Welstoke had
taught me crept around me again. I could not look at the Judge with his
youth dropped off him, his voice and face ten years older and his eyes
grown more tender by the grief and love and sacrifice of an hour,
without turning away from him. Why? Because a voice from the grave was
whispering to me as cool as wet lettuce, to prove that the good or bad
of a soul does not end with death.

"Didn't I tell you that skeletons hang in all closets?" it said. "Now,
after this night, the Judge, to use a good old phrase, is quite in your
power. Bide your time, my dear. We women will come into our own again."

"Excuse me, sir," I said, aloud. "There was a locket on the child's
neck. Wouldn't it be well to remove it? It is marked with a name that
must be forgotten."

He looked at me gratefully as he fumbled at the trinket with his long,
smoke-blackened fingers, while I trembled with my desire to have it safe
in my own hands. It was the one thing left to prove the truth. I
believe my arms were stretched out for it, when there came a knock on
the door.

"You want some breakfast," said a voice. "You poor tired people!"

The Judge, jumping up, placed the little chain and locket on the window
sill. I saw it slide down the incline; the screen was up far enough to
let it through. It was gone! He gave an exclamation, but the next moment
the door had opened and the Danforth family were crowding in.

"Well, Colfax," said the old l