her. Blushing deeply, she came and stood by
my side. "I thank you," said she. "I have much to be grateful for; how
much I never realized till to-night; but I cannot speak of it now. What
I wish is for you to come in and help me persuade Eleanore to accept
this fortune from my hands. It is hers, you know; was willed to her, or
would have been if--"

"Wait," said I, in the trepidation which this appeal to me on such a
subject somehow awakened. "Have you weighed this matter well? Is it your
determined purpose to transfer your fortune into your cousin's hands?"

Her look was enough without the low, "Ah, how can you ask me?" that
followed it.

Mr. Clavering was sitting by the side of Eleanore when we entered the
drawing-room. He immediately rose, and drawing me to one side, earnestly
said:

"Before the courtesies of the hour pass between us, Mr. Raymond, allow
me to tender you my apology. You have in your possession a document
which ought never to have been forced upon you. Founded upon a mistake,
the act was an insult which I bitterly regret. If, in consideration of
my mental misery at that time, you can pardon it, I shall feel forever
indebted to you; if not----"

"Mr. Clavering, say no more. The occurrences of that day belong to
a past which I, for one, have made up my mind to forget as soon as
possible. The future promises too richly for us to dwell on bygone
miseries."

And with a look of mutual understanding and friendship we hastened to
rejoin the ladies.

Of the conversation that followed, it is only necessary to state the
result. Eleanore, remaining firm in her refusal to accept property so
stained by guilt, it was finally agreed upon that it should be devoted
to the erection and sustainment of some charitable institution of
magnitude sufficient to be a recognized benefit to the city and its
unfortunate poor. This settled, our thoughts returned to our friends,
especially to Mr. Veeley.

"He ought to know," said Mary. "He has grieved like a father over us."
And, in her spirit of penitence, she would have undertaken the unhappy
task of telling him the truth.

But Eleanore, with her accustomed generosity, would not hear of this.
"No, Mary," said she; "you have suffered enough. Mr. Raymond and I will
go."

And leaving them there, with the light of growing hope and confidence on
their faces, we went out again into the night, and so into a dream from
which I have never waked, though the shine of her dear ey