hment. But a mother is never alone in her sin. The sins of
the fathers--you know the text well enough, John. Last night, I tried to
kill myself."

"Mary!"

He groaned, with outstretched hands, revealing his love and the gap in
his armor where he could still be pierced.

"Yes. I thought it would be best. I wrote a full confession of
everything, such a letter as would cover my father with shame, and send
him to his grave, dreading to meet his Maker. I meant to poison myself,
but I thought of you in your double sorrow, John--what would you do
without me?--and Netty, motherless when she most needs guidance. I
thought of the disgrace and the shame of it, the inquest and the
newspaper accounts--oh, I've been through horrors untold, John. I've been
punished a hundred times for all I've done. John! John! Don't stand away
from me like that! If you do, I shall go upstairs now--now!--and put an
end to everything. I've got the poison there. I'll go. God is my judge. I
won't live to be condemned by you and everybody, and have my name a
by-word for all time--the daughter who ran away with a parson, and robbed
her father to save her husband, and then was flung into jail by the godly
man, who would rather see his daughter a social outcast and his wife in
penal servitude than stand by her."

"It's a sin--a horrible sin!"

"Who are you to judge me? Would Dick have betrayed his mother?"

"Mary--Mary! Don't tempt me--don't--don't! You know what my plain duty
is. You know what our duty to our dead son is. Your father must be
appealed to. We will go to him on our bended knees, and beg forgiveness.
The bank people must be told the truth, and they must contradict publicly
the slander upon Dick."

"Then, you would have your wife humiliated and publicly branded as a
thief and a forger? What do you think people will say of us, then? Shall
I ever dare to show my face among my friends again?"

"We must go away, to a new place, a new country, where no one knows us
and we mustn't come back."

"And Netty?"

"Netty must bear her share of the burden you have put upon us. We will
bear it together."

"No; Netty is blameless. You and I, John, must suffer, not she. It would
be wicked to ruin her young life. You won't denounce me, John. You can't.
You won't have me sent to prison. You won't disgrace me in the eyes of my
friends. You won't do anything--at least, until Netty is married--will
you?"

"Harry Bent must know."

"No, no, John. You