silence; that you were
henceforth to be relieved from his persecutions? I am sure he said so."

"He did, but he forgot that my fate no longer rested upon his
forbearance. The letter which records my admission of sin was in his
lawyer's hands, Paula, and has already been despatched to Mr.
Stuyvesant. Say what we will, rebel against it as we will, Cicely's
father knows by this time that the name of Sylvester is not spotless."

The cry which she uttered in her sudden pain and loss made him stoop
over her with despairing fondness. "Hush! my darling, hush!" cried he.
"The trial is so heavy, I need all my strength to meet it. It breaks my
heart to see you grieve. I cannot bear it. I deserve my fate, but
you--Oh you--what have you done that you should be overwhelmed in my
fall!" Putting her gently away from his breast, he drew himself up and
with forced calmness said, "I have yet to inform Mr. Stuyvesant upon
which of the Sylvesters' should rest the shadow of his distrust.
To-night he believes in Bertram's lack of principle, but to-morrow--"

Her trembling lips echoed the word.

"He shall know that the man who confessed to having done a wrong deed in
the past, is myself, Paula."

The head which had fallen on her breast, rose as at the call of a
clarion. "And is it at the noblest moment of your life that you would
shut me away from your side? No, no. Heaven does not send us a great and
mighty love for trivial purposes. The simple country maid whom you have
sometimes declared was as the bringer of good news to you, shall not
fail you now." Then slowly and with solemn assurance, "If you go to Mr.
Stuyvesant's to-morrow, and you will, for that is your duty, you shall
not go alone; Paula Fairchild accompanies you."

XLIV.

IN MR. STUYVESANT'S PARLORS.

"Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?"

--COMUS.

"Unworthy?"

"Yes."

Cicely stared at her father with wide-open and incredulous eyes. "I
cannot believe it," she murmured; "no, I cannot believe it."

Her father drew up a chair to her side. "My daughter," said he, with
unusual tenderness, "I have hesitated to tell you this, fearing to wound
you; but my discretion will allow me to keep silence no longer. Bertram
Sylvester is not an honest man, and the sooner you make up your mind to
forget him, the better."

"Not honest?" You would scarcely have recognized Cicely's voice. Her
father's hand trembled as h