f our sin."

"John, you no longer love me. You mean to ruin me--you despise me--you
want to get rid of me!" cried the wretched woman between her sobs, as she
flung herself on her knees at his feet. "John! John! I can't do it--I
can't!"

"Get away, woman--don't touch me! You're a bad woman. You have broken my
faith in myself--almost my faith in God. I'll have nothing further to do
with you--or your father--or the money that you say is yours. Money has
nothing to do with it. It is a matter of conscience, of courage, of
truth! I've been a miserable coward, and my son has shamed me into a
semblance of a brave man. I am going to do the right thing by the boy."

"John! John!--you can't--you won't! You'll keep me with you always. I'll
love you--oh--you shall not regret it. You cannot do without me."

"Out of my sight!"

He rushed from the room, leaving his wife still upon her knees, with her
arms outstretched appealingly. When the door slammed behind him, she
uttered one despairing moan, and fell forward on her face, sobbing
hysterically.

Her hands clawed at the carpet in her agony, yet she could not bring
herself to make any effort towards the rehabilitation of her son's honor.
Her thoughts flew again to her father--the greatest sinner, as she
regarded him--and the flash of hope that had so elated her in the
afternoon again blinded her. She struggled to her feet, still sobbing,
and looked at the clock. If John persisted in his determination to
denounce her at evening service, there was at least a three hours'
respite--time enough to go to her father.

The rector, in the hall, had met an officer coming down the stairs, who
explained the situation to him--that a doctor's certificate would be
necessary, and that officers must remain in and about the house to keep
watch on their prisoner. The rector listened to them with his mind
elsewhere, as though their communication had little interest for him, and
his lips moved with his thoughts. But, before they left, he pulled
himself together, and addressed them.

"Officers, I beg one favor of you: that you will not make this matter
public until after the service in the church this evening. You have
arrested the wrong culprit. The real forger may possibly come to you at
the police station with me to-night, and surrender."

"Was that the meaning of the young man's cheek?" wondered the officer,
eying the pale-faced, distraught clergyman suspiciously. He had arrested
defaulting