or widow, the poor mother, the good
woman,' and so on--and all this she is still."

The old man, without raising his head, held out one hand to his nephew,
saying in a voice still trembling with emotion:

"Herbert, I wronged you; forgive me."

Herbert took and pressed that rugged and hairy old hand to his lips, and
said:

"Uncle, I do not in the least know what is the cause of your present
emotion, but----"

"Emotion! Demmy, sir, what do you mean by emotion? Am I a man to give
way to emotion? Demmy, sir, mind what you say!" roared the old lion,
getting up and shaking himself free of all weaknesses.

"I merely meant to say, sir, that if I could possibly be of any service
to you I am entirely at your orders."

"Then go back to that woman and tell her never to dare to utter, or even
to think of, my name again, if she values her life!"

"Sir, you do not mean it! and as for Mrs. Rocke, she is a good woman I
feel it my duty to uphold!"

"Good! ugh! ugh! ugh! I'll command myself! I'll not give way again!
Good! ah, lad, it is quite plain to me now that you are an innocent
dupe. Tell me now, for instance, do you know anything of that woman's
life before she came to reside at Staunton?"

"Nothing; but from what I've seen of her since I'm sure she always was
good."

"Did she never mention her former life at all?"

"Never; but, mind, I hold to my faith in her, and would stake my
salvation on her integrity," said Herbert, warmly.

"Then you'd lose it, lad, that's all; but I have an explanation to make
to you, Herbert. You must give me a minute or two of your company alone,
in the library, before tea."

And so saying, Major Warfield arose and led the way across the hall to
the library, that was immediately back of the back drawing-room.

Throwing himself into a leathern chair beside the writing-table, he
motioned for his companion to take the one on the opposite side. A low
fire smoldering on the hearth before them so dimly lighted the room that
the young man arose again to pull the bell rope; but the other
interrupted with:

"No, you need not ring for lights, Herbert! my story is one that should
be told in the dark. Listen, lad; but drop your eyes the while."

"I am all attention, sir!"

"Herbert, the poet says that--

"'At thirty man suspects himself a fool,
Knows it at forty and reforms his rule.'

"But, boy, at the ripe age of forty-five, I succeeded in achieving the
most sublime folly of my lif