rew her chair nearer to me. "Let me hear every word of it!" she
pleaded eagerly.

I felt some reluctance to comply with the request.

"Is it not fit for me to hear?" she asked.

This forced me to be plain with her. "If I repeat what the Rector told
me," I said, "I must speak of my wife."

She took my hand. "You have pitied and forgiven her," she answered.
"Speak of her, Bernard--and don't, for God's sake, think that my heart
is harder than yours."

I kissed the hand that she had given to me--even her "brother" might do
that!

"It began," I said, "in the grateful attachment which the boy felt for
my wife. He refused to leave her bedside on the day when she dictated
her confession to the Rector. As he was entirely ignorant of the English
language, there seemed to be no objection to letting him have his own
way. He became inquisitive as the writing went on. His questions annoyed
the Rector--and as the easiest way of satisfying his curiosity, my wife
told him that she was making her will. He knew just enough, from what
he had heard at various times, to associate making a will with gifts of
money--and the pretended explanation silenced and satisfied him."

"Did the Rector understand it?" Stella asked.

"Yes. Like many other Englishmen in his position, although he was not
ready at speaking French, he could read the language, and could fairly
well understand it, when it was spoken. After my wife's death, he kindly
placed the boy, for a few days, under the care of his housekeeper. Her
early life had been passed in the island of Martinique, and she was able
to communicate with the friendless foreigner in his own language. When
he disappeared, she was the only person who could throw any light on his
motive for stealing the papers. On the day when he entered the house,
she caught him peeping through the keyhole of the study door. He
must have seen where the confession was placed, and the color of the
old-fashioned blue paper, on which it was written, would help him to
identify it. The next morning, during the Rector's absence, he brought
the manuscript to the housekeeper, and asked her to translate it into
French, so that he might know how much money was left to him in 'the
will.' She severely reproved him, made him replace the paper in the desk
from which he had taken it, and threatened to tell the Rector if his
misconduct was repeated. He promised amendment, and the good-natured
woman believed him. On that evening the p