e. It was bitterly cold, and she
went back to bed. She guessed that there must be a painful interview in
progress down in the study, and her own joy--if any--at the return of her
disgraced brother could wait.

She had no two points of view. She was sorry that Dick had returned. She
regretted that the forger was not dead. It was so hideously inconvenient
when one wanted to get married to have a disreputable brother in the
family. She then and there resolved that Dick need not think he would
ever get money out of Harry Bent.

It was a strange home-coming for the prodigal. His intention to emigrate
as soon as he had seen his father and mother was frustrated by an attack
of weakness, which made it impossible for him to be moved. He was helped
to bed, miserably conscious that self-sacrifice would entail more than
emigration. If he took upon his shoulders the family burden, it would be
as a prisoner and a convict. The secret of his home-coming could not be
kept, and Ormsby's warrant must take effect.

CHAPTER XXII

THE BLIGHT OF FEAR

Breakfast at the rectory on the morning following Dick's sensational
return was a very solemn meal, for the blight of fear had fallen upon the
whole household. No one slept. The father and mother had remained with
Dick until the small hours of the morning, and, when they finally bade
each other good-night, both were conscious that the old days of sweet
comradeship were over forever.

There would be no more heart-to-heart speaking between these two, no
sharing of burdens. The man must go his way and the woman hers, each with
a load of sorrow to bear.

The rector was the only one really glad to find that the news of Dick's
death was not true; but the joy of finding him alive was nullified by the
terror of coming trouble. Mary was mentally stunned by the shock of
Dick's return. She had grown accustomed to the thought of him as dead,
and, of late, had been almost glad, since it saved the whole family from
social ruin. Now, what would happen? She could not think, every faculty
seemed benumbed. She had arisen and dressed in a perfectly mechanical
manner, and, even now that she was sitting at the breakfast-table, her
eyes had the strange and set expression which one sees in the eyes of the
sleep-walker. Her voice, too, had unfamiliar notes as she read aloud the
headings of the news columns, making a wretched pretense of keeping up
appearances before the servants.

The domestics had be