y are in Manchester. They have been summoned for
witnesses. But I told Mrs. Bradshaw to keep everything bright and
clean, as I might come home any minute. I thought that before now Paul
and I would be back together, and so she'll be expecting us. You're
not hungry, are you?"

"No," said Mary.

"I expect he'll be acquitted to-day," she went on. "That man can't sit
in judgment on him any longer now, and the people will be glad. Won't
there be shouting when my Paul comes home?"

When they arrived at Brunford station, Mary noted how the porters
looked curiously at them and spoke one to another in whispers. She
knew that before an hour was over the whole town would be talking about
them. They would be wondering why she, the judge's daughter, should
accompany the mother of the man who was accused of murder. But she did
not trouble about it. She called a cab, and a few minutes later they
were on their way to Paul's home.

Mary began to get excited. Once in Paul's house she would be able to
examine everything, and would perhaps discover things that would lead
the woman by her side to make her confession. She felt sure that she
was on the track of discovery, felt convinced that before long the
truth would come to light.

When they arrived at the house Mary found the door standing open, and a
motherly-looking woman waiting to receive them.

"I've done as yo' told me, Mrs. Stepaside," said Mrs. Bradshaw the
woman. "There's a fire in the kitchen range, and another in the study,
and everything is clean and nice."

"Mrs. Stepaside is not very well," said Mary quietly. "I've come with
her from Manchester. But she will be all right with me."

"And who might yo' be?" asked Mrs. Bradshaw suspiciously.

"I'm Mrs. Stepaside's friend," she replied. "Will you lead the way to
the room where the fire is?"

A few minutes later they were in the house alone. Mrs. Bradshaw had
brought a cup of tea, and then, saying she'd be back again presently,
had left them.

"Somehow I don't feel a bit lonely now you're here. Why is it, I
wonder?" and the older woman looked into Mary's face curiously.

"I'm glad you're not lonely," said Mary. "Are you well enough to talk?"

"Ay, I'm feeling ever so much better. I wonder why it is?"

"Did you sleep last night?" asked Mary.

"Nay, I couldn't sleep. Was it any wonder? You see we met after all
those long years, and I told him the truth. Ay; but he's
suffering--he's sufferin