lied to me!" he cried. "You've tried to rob me!" He swept the
room with his eyes. With a flash of intuition, he saw the trap they had
laid for him. "All of you!" he screamed. "It's a plot!" He shook his
fist at the weeping girl. "And you!" he shouted hysterically, "the law
shall punish you!"

Winthrop drew the girl to him and put his arm about her.

"I'll do the punishing here," he said.

With a glad, welcoming cry, the old man turned to him appealingly,
wildly.

"Yes, you!" he shouted, "you punish them! She plotted to get my money."

The girl at Winthrop's side shivered, and shrank from him. He drew her
back roughly and held her close. The sobs that shook her tore at his
heart; the touch of the sinking, trembling body in his arms filled him
with fierce, jubilant thoughts of keeping the girl there always, of
giving battle for her, of sheltering her against the world. In what she
had done he saw only a sacrifice. In her he beheld only a penitent, who
was self-accused and self-convicted.

He heard the voice of the old man screaming vindictively, "She plotted
to get my money!"

Winthrop turned upon him savagely.

"How did she plot to get it?" he retorted fiercely. "You know, and I
know. I know how your lawyer, your doctor, your servant plotted to get
it!" His voice rose and rang with indignation. "You all plotted, and you
all schemed--and to what end--what was the result?"--he held before them
the fainting figure of the girl--"That one poor child could prove she
was honest!"

With his arms still about her, and her hands clinging to him, he moved
with her quickly to the door. When they had reached the silence of the
hall, he took her hands in his, and looked into her eyes. "Now," he
commanded, "you shall come to my sisters!"

The waiting car carried them swiftly up the avenue. Their way lay
through the park, and the warm, mid-summer air was heavy with the odor
of plants and shrubs. Above them the trees drooped deep with leaves.
Vera, crouched in a corner, had not spoken. Her eyes were hidden in
her hands. But when they had entered the silent reaches of the park she
lowered them and the face she lifted to Winthrop was pale and wet with
tears. The man thought never before had he seen it more lovely or more
lovable. Vera shook her head dumbly and looked up at him with a troubled
smile.

"I told you," she murmured remorsefully, "you'd be sorry."

"We don't know that yet," said Winthrop gently, "we'll have all the