What will you do, Russell?"

"I don't know yet."

"Oh! if I could only help you."

She clasped her hands over her heart, and for the first time since her
infancy tears rushed down her cheeks. It was painful to see that quiet girl
so moved, and Russell hastily took the folded hands in his, and bent his
face close to hers.

"Irene, the only comfort I have is that you are my friend. Don't let them
influence you against me. No matter what you may hear, believe in me. Oh!
Irene, Irene! believe in me always!"

He held her hands in a clasp so tight that it pained her, then suddenly
dropped them and left her.

Mrs. Aubrey recognized the step and looked round in surprise.

"Electra, I certainly hear Russell coming."

He drew near and touched her cheek with his lips, saying tenderly--

"How is my mother?"

"Russell, what brings you home so early?"

"That is rather a cold welcome, mother, but I am not astonished. Can you
bear to hear something unpleasant? Here, put your hands in mine; now listen
to me. You know I drew fifty dollars of my salary in advance, to pay Clark.
At that time I gave my watch to Mr. Watson by way of pawn, he seemed so
reluctant to let me have the money; you understand, mother, why I did not
mention it at the time. He locked it up in the iron safe, to which no one
has access except him and myself. Late yesterday I locked the safe as
usual, but do not remember whether the watch was still there or not; this
morning Mr. Watson missed it; we searched safe, desk, store, could find it
nowhere, nor the twenty-dollar gold piece deposited at the same time. No
other money was missing, though the safe contained nearly a thousand
dollars. The end of it all is that I am accused as the thief, and expelled
in disgrace for----"

A low, plaintive cry escaped the widow's lips, and her head sank heavily on
the boy's shoulder. Passing his arm fondly around her, he kissed her white
face, and continued in the same hushed, passionless tone, like one speaking
under his breath, and stilling some devouring rage--

"Mother, I need not assure you of my innocence. You know that I never could
be guilty of what is imputed to me; but, not having it in my power to prove
my innocence, I shall have to suffer the disgrace for a season. Only for a
season, I trust, mother, for in time the truth must be discovered. I have
been turned out of my situation, and, though they have no proof of my
guilt, they will try to brand me with the