een deplorable. You've been the victim of circumstances that I may
not explain even to you. But I promise you this, your stepfather is not
the man to have desired to cut you out of your mother's life."

"Who did then? Mother?"

The girl's beautiful face flushed under her stirring emotions. The man
shook his head.

"Circumstances. Yes, those circumstances I told you of. Those
circumstances I can't explain." Charles Nisson picked up a typescript
and held it out to the child.

"I want you to take this. It's not the deed, but a true copy. I want you
to read it over and think about it, and when you get back to Marypoint,
and feel like talking to those teachers you trust there, you can tell
them what it contains, and hear what they have to say about it, and see
if they won't think better of your stepfather than you do. You needn't
read it now," as the girl turned the pages and glanced down the
confusion of legal phraseology. "I'm going to tell you what it contains
in plain words. But I want you to have it, and read it, and think over
it, because I want you to try and get a real understanding of the man
whose signature is set to the original deed."

"Yes," he went on, meditatively, and in a tone of real regret. "I'd be
pretty glad to have you think better of him. I think just now he needs
the kind thought of anyone who belongs to him. He's in pretty bad
trouble--someways."

The girl looked up. A curious anxiety was shining in her eyes.

"Trouble?" she demanded. "You mean he's done wrong? What d'you mean?
What sort of--trouble?"

The man shook his head.

"No. It's not that. It's--your mother. You know, Nancy, he loved your
mother in a way that leaves a good man broken to pieces when he loses
the object of his love. Every good thought he ever had was bound up in
your mother. And your mother was his strong support, and literally his
guiding star. You've lost your mother. You know how you felt. Well, I
can't tell you, but think, try and think what it would be if you'd lost
just every hope in life, too--the same as he has."

"I'd--I'd want to die," the girl cried impulsively.

"Yes. So would anyone. So does he. Just as far as the world's concerned
he's dead now. You'll never see him, or hear from him. Nor will anyone
else--except me. He'll never come into your life after this. He'll never
claim his legal guardianship of you, beyond that document. To you he's
dead, leaving you heir to what is contained in that deed. He'