itchery
of her loveliness; and presently he found himself for the first time
making excuses for her; if she had deceived him she had deceived him
from love; whatever her past, she had been true to him, and was, from
the moment she loved him, incapable of wrong.--He had cast her from him,
and she had sought refuge in the arms of the only rival he ever would
have had to fear--the bare-ribbed Death!

Naturally followed the reflection--what was he to demand purity of any
woman?--Had he not accepted--yes, tempted, enticed from the woman who
preceded her, the sacrifice of one of the wings of her soul on the altar
of his selfishness! then driven her from him, thus maimed and helpless,
to the mercy of the rude blasts of the world! She, not he ever, had been
the noble one, the bountiful giver, the victim of shameless ingratitude.
Flattering himself that misery would drive her back to him, he had not
made a single effort to find her, or mourned that he could never make up
to her for the wrongs he had done her. He had not even hoped for a
future in which he might humble himself before her! What room was there
here to talk of honor! If she had not sunk to the streets it was through
her own virtue, and none of his care! And now she was dead! and his
child, but for the charity of a despised superstition, would have been
left an outcast in the London streets, to wither into the old-faced
weakling of a London workhouse!

CHAPTER XLVII.

THE BLOWING OF THE WIND.

Smaller and smaller Faber felt as he pursued his plain, courageous
confession of wrong to the man whose life was even now in peril for the
sake of his neglected child. When he concluded with the expression of
his conviction that Amanda was his daughter, then first the old minister
spoke. His love had made him guess what was coming, and he was on his
guard.

"May I ask what is your object in making this statement to me, Mr.
Faber?" he said coldly.

"I am conscious of none but to confess the truth, and perform any duty
that may be mine in consequence of the discovery," said the doctor.

"Do you wish this truth published to the people of Glaston?" inquired
the minister, in the same icy tone.

"I have no such desire: but I am of course prepared to confess Amanda my
child, and to make you what amends may be possible for the trouble and
expense she has occasioned you."

"Trouble! Expense!" cried the minister fiercely. "Do you mean in your
cold-blooded heart, that,