w to see you. Regie is quite
well, and he is coming in now to see you."

"Regie is dead, you old gray wolf," said Hester, in a monotonous voice.
"I killed him in the back-yard. The place is quite black, and it
smokes."

"Look at the door," repeated Dr. Brown, over and over again. "He is
coming in at the door now."

Hester trembled, and looked at the door. The doctor noticed, with a
frown, that she could hardly move her eyes.

Regie stood in the doorway, holding the Bishop's hand. The cold snow
light fell upon the gallant little figure and white face.

The doctor moved between Hester and the window. His shadow was upon her.

The hearts of the two men beat like hammers.

A change came over Hester's face.

"My little Reg," she said, holding out her bandaged hands.

Regie ran to her, and put his arms round her neck. They clasped each
other tightly. The doctor winced to watch her hands.

"It's all right, Auntie Hester," said Regie. "I love you just the same,
and you must not cry any more."

For Hester's tears were falling at last, quenching the wild fire in her
eyes.

"My little treasure, my little mouse," she said, over and over again,
kissing his face and hands and little brown overcoat.

Then all in a moment her face altered. Her agonized eyes turned to the
doctor.

In an instant Dr. Brown's hand was over Regie's eyes, and he hurried him
out of the room.

"Take him out of hearing," he whispered to the Bishop, and darted back.

Hester was tearing the bandages off her hands.

"I don't know what has happened," she wailed, "but my hands hurt me so
that I can't bear it."

"Thank God!" said the old doctor, blowing his nose.

CHAPTER XLIII

The Devil has no stancher ally than _want of perception_.--PHILIP
H. WICKSTEED.

It takes two to speak truth--one to speak and another to
hear.--THOREAU.

Mrs. Gresley had passed an uncomfortable day. In the afternoon all the
Pratts had called, and Mr. Gresley, who departed early in the afternoon
for Southminster, had left his wife no directions as to how to act in
this unforseen occurrence, or how to parry the questions with which she
was overwhelmed.

After long hesitation she at last owned that Hester had returned to
Southminster in the Bishop's carriage not more than half an hour after
it had brought her back.

"I can't explain Hester's actions," she would only repeat over and over
again. "I don't pretend to understand clever pe