idence had ruined me!"

"Ay, but did you not explain it to him?"

"How could I, alas! when I did not understand it myself? How Le Noir
knew that Major Warfield was not expected home that fatal night--how he
got into my house, whether by conspiring with my little maid or by
deceiving her--or, lastly, how Major Warfield came to burst in upon him
so suddenly, I did not know, and do not to this day."

"But you told Major Warfield all that you have told me?"

"Oh, yes! again and again, calling heaven to witness my truth! In vain!
he had seen with his own eyes, he said. Against all I could say or do
there was built up a wall of scornful incredulity, on which I might have
dashed my brains out to no purpose."

"Oh, Marah, Marah! with none to pity or to save!" again exclaimed
Herbert.

"Yes," said the meek creature, bowing her head; "God pitied and helped
me! First he sent me a son that grew strong and handsome in body, good
and wise in soul. Then He kept alive in my heart faith and hope and
charity. He enabled me, through long years of unremitting and
ill-requited toil, to live on, loving against anger, waiting against
time, and hoping against despair!"

"Why did you leave your western home and come to Staunton, Marah?" asked
Herbert.

"To be where I could sometimes hear of my husband without intruding on
him. I took your widowed mother in, because she was his sister, though I
never told her who I was, lest she should wrong and scorn me, as he had
done. When she died I cherished you, Herbert, first because you were his
nephew, but now, dear boy, for your own sake also."

"And I, while I live, will be a son to you, madam! I will be your
constant friend at Hurricane Hall. He talks of making me his heir.
Should he persist in such blind injustice, the day I come into the
property I shall turn it all over to his widow and son. But I do not
believe that he will persist; I, for my part, still hope for the best."

"I also hope for the best, for whatever God wills is sure to happen, and
His will is surely the best! Yes, Herbert, I also hope--beyond the
grave!" said Marah Rocke, with a wan smile.

The little clock that stood between the tall, plated candlesticks on the
mantelpiece struck twelve, and Marah rose from her seat, saying:

"Traverse, poor fellow, will be home to his dinner. Not a word to him,
Herbert, please! I do not wish the poor lad to know how much he has
lost, and above all, I do not wish him to be prejudice