you read over the paper which you
signed?"

"No," she sobbed; "I did not read it. Your mother wrote it, telling me
what was in it--that I was never to cross your path again, because she
wished it so, and I signed it without reading it. Indeed, I could not
have read a line to have saved my life, my eyes were so blinded with
tears, just as they are now."

A grayish pallor spread over his face; a startling revelation had come
to him: his _mother_ had written the terrible document, every line of
which she knew to be false, relying upon the girl's agitation not to
discover its contents ere she signed it!

Yes, that was the solution of the mystery; he saw through the whole
contemptible affair.

Only his mother's illness prevented him from stopping at the first
telegraph office and sending a dispatch to her to let her know that he
had discovered all.

"You do not believe it--you will not believe that I took the bracelet?"
Jessie was sobbing out. "Speak to me, oh, I implore you, and tell me
that you believe me innocent!"

He turned suddenly and took her in his arms.

"Believe in your innocence, my darling?" he answered, suddenly. "Yes,
before Heaven I do! You are innocent--innocent as a little child. I
intend to take you directly to my mother, and this mystery shall then be
unraveled."

Despite the girl's protestations, he insisted that it must be so, and
the first outgoing train bore them on their way back to Boston.

It so happened that he found a lady acquaintance on board, an old friend
of his mother, who willingly took charge of Jessie on the journey.

"Keep up a brave heart, little Jessie," whispered Hubert, as he bid the
ladies good-night. "All will come out well. Nothing on earth shall take
you from me again."

CHAPTER XXIX.

RETURNING GOOD FOR EVIL.

When the train reached Boston, Varrick took a cab at once for his home,
Jessie and his mother's friend accompanying him. They had barely reached
the entrance gate, ere they saw, through the dense foliage of trees that
surrounded the old mansion, that lights were moving quickly in the east
wing of the house that was occupied by his mother.

His sharp ring had scarcely died away when the footman came hurriedly to
the door.

"Now that I have seen you safely home, with Miss Bain beneath your
mother's roof, I shall have to hurry on," declared his mother's friend.
"I know your mother will forgive me, Hubert, for not stopping a few
days, or at least a