his integrity to
be discovered? He had often thought that it was possible that a man
should be convicted of some dreadful crime; that he should be execrated,
not only by the whole countryside, but by his own wife and children; that
his descendants for ages might curse him as the solitary ancestor who had
brought disgrace into the family, and that he might be innocent. There
might be hundreds of such; doubtless there have been. Perhaps, even
worse, there have been men who have been misinterpreted, traduced,
forsaken, because they have been compelled for a reason sacredly secret
to take a certain course which seemed disreputable, and the word which
would have explained everything they have loyally sworn, for the sake of
a friend, never to speak, and it has remained unspoken for ever. As he
stood leaning over the parapet he saw Catharine coming along the path.
She did not attempt to avoid him, for she wandered what he could be
doing. He told her the whole story. "Miss Catharine, there is just one
thing I want to know: do you believe I am guilty?"

"I know you are not."

"Thank God for that."

Both remained silent for a minute or two. At last Tom spoke.

"Oh, Miss Catharine, this makes it harder to bear. You are the one
person, perhaps, in the world now who has any faith in me; there is,
perhaps, no human being at this moment, excepting yourself, who, after
having heard what you have heard, would at once put it all aside. What
do you suppose I think of you now? If I loved you before, what must my
love now be? Miss Catharine, I could tear out my heart for you, and if
you can trust me so much, why can you not love me too? What is it that
prevents your love? Why cannot I alter it? And yet, what am I saying?
You may think me honest, but how can I expect you to take a discharged
felon?"

Catharine knew what Tom did not know. She was perfectly sure that the
accusation against him was the result of the supposed discovery of their
love for one another. If she had denied it promptly nothing perhaps
would have happened. It was all due to her, then. She gazed up the
stream; the leaden clouds drove on; the leaden water lay rippled; the
willows and the rushes, vexed with the bitter blast, bent themselves
continually. She turned and took her ring off her finger.

"It can never be," she slowly said; "here is my ring; you may keep it,
but while I am alive you must never wear it."

Tom took it mechanically, bent h