! he's clear--he's innocent, and they all know it now. They can't
keep him down, can they? He won't have as hard a time as I've had? He'll
succeed, won't he? He must, after it all!"

"Yes," said the man, shaking as in a palsy, "after it all, he ought to,
and I pray he may." But he could talk no more.

"And he's such a fine boy! I don't see how you could----"

"How I could disown him? Yesterday?"

She nodded. "I can't understand that. I never could. I can't see how you
could hesitate. I--I wish you hadn't. I--I can't forgive that." Her
voice rose slightly at last, a spot of color came into her pallid cheek.

"I didn't have the courage to come through square, and that's the truth
about it. I've never had, all along. Maybe a man doesn't have the same
feeling that a woman does about a child--I don't know. But I was worse
than the average man--more selfish. I got caught up in politics, in
business. Success?--well, I saw how hard it is. I thought I had to keep
down the past. Well, it's over now. But as for you----"

"I lived it down for a good many years. Don's twenty-two now."

"But how could you keep that secret--what made you? Why didn't you go
into court and force me to do my duty to my own flesh and blood--and to
you?"

"I don't know," she answered. "I told you, I don't know. Maybe I was
proud. Maybe I thought I'd wait till you shamed your own self into
coming. I'm glad you've come now, at last. I don't know--maybe I thought
some day you would."

"I'm not Judge Henderson!" he broke out bitterly. "I'm Arthur
Dimmesdale! I ought to be in the pillory, on the gallows, before this
town. I'm a thief and a coward, and I deserve no pity, neither of man
nor of God himself. You've carried all the blame, when I was the one to
blame. And I can't see why you didn't tell, Aurie--what made you keep it
all a secret?"

"I don't know," said she simply again. "I don't know. It seemed--it
seemed somehow to me--_sacred_--what was between us! It was--Don! I have
never told anyone. I was waiting, hoping you'd come--for your own sake.
Why should I rob you of your chance?"

"Thank God that you did keep the secret!" he broke out at length. "It's
all the chance I have left to be a man. At least I'll confess the
truth."

"Why, Will, what do you mean? I'll never tell. I told you I wouldn't--I
swore I wouldn't.

"I'll be going away before long, Will," she added. "I can't stay here
now. I suppose Don and I will go away somewhere. I'm g