and that, too, I fear, at his own imminent risk."

"Don't mention this," said the young man; "it has been a privilege to me
to have been able to render this assistance. I am only too thankful
that I was put in the way of discovering what might have otherwise been
a very serious business. But we must see that you are better protected
for the future."

"True, true, John," interrupted Mr Tankardew, smiling; "I see I must
put in a word. My dear child, Miss Franklin seems more willing than
able to speak just now. Yes; let me make a clean breast of it. Let me
introduce our young friend in a new character, John Randolph Tankardew,
my only son, my only surviving child." His voice trembled, and then he
added, "He has twice been the protector of my dear adopted daughter, let
me join their hands together as a pledge that he may shortly obtain a
better title to be her protector while life shall last."

And so, placing the half-shrinking hand of Mary in the young man's
stronger grasp, he held them together with a fervent blessing.

"And now," he added, as they sat in a loving group, too full of tearful
peace to wish to break the charmed silence by hasty words, "now let me
tell my story, and unravel the little tangle which has made me a mystery
to my neighbours, and a burden to my friends. But all that is past;
there are brighter days before us now."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

MR. TANKARDEW'S STORY BEGUN.

"You must know, dear friends," began the old man sadly, "that I'm a
wiser man now than I was once. Not that there's much wisdom to boast of
now; only I have learnt by experience, and he is a sharp schoolmaster.

"I was born to trust others; it was misery to me to live in distrust and
suspicion; I couldn't do it. People told me I was a fool; it was true,
I knew it, but I went on trusting. David said in his haste, `all men
are liars.' I said in my haste, or rather my folly, `all men are true.'
They might lie to others, but I thought they couldn't, or wouldn't, or
didn't lie to me. At any rate I'd trust them; it was so sad to think
that a being made in God's image could go about wilfully deceiving
others. I'd take a brighter view of my fellow-men and women. I never
could abide your shrewd, knowing people, who seemed to be always living
with a wink in their eyes, and a grin on their lips, as if they believed
in nobody and nothing but their own sharpness. I loathed them, and I
loathe them still. But I wasn't wise. I