her false strength until she had passed
through the agonizing ordeal of the funeral--he accepting all her
delusions as true--as one does when an insane person is to be coaxed
back into a cell. These thoughts went whirling through his mind, as
Peter watched her face closely, wondering what would be his course. He
had not met her often, yet he could see that she was terribly changed.
He noticed, too, that all through the interview she had not shed a tear.
Yes--there was no question that her mind was unbalanced. The best plan
would be to bring the interview to an end as quickly as possible, so she
should not dwell too long on her sorrow.

"If I have done anything to help you, my dear lady," he said with gentle
courtesy, rising from his chair and taking her hand again, "or can do
anything for you in the future, I shall be most happy, and you must
certainly let me know. And now, may I not ask you to go upstairs and
lie down. You are greatly fatigued--I assure you I feel for you most
deeply."

But his mind was still disturbed. Ruth and Jack wondered at his quiet
as he sat beside them on the way back to MacFarlane's--gazing out of
the carriage window, his clean-shaven, placid face at rest, his straight
thin lips close shut. He hardly spoke until they reached the house,
and then it was when he helped Ruth alight. Once inside, however,
he beckoned Jack, and without a word led him alone into MacFarlane's
study--now almost dismantled for the move to Morfordsburg--and closed
the door.

"Mrs. Minott has just told me the most extraordinary thing, Jack--an
unbelievable story. Is she quite sane?"

Jack scanned Peter's face and read the truth. Corinne had evidently told
him everything. This was the severest blow of all.

"She supposed you knew, sir;" answered Jack quietly, further concealment
now being useless.

"Knew what?" Peter was staring at him with wide-open eyes.

"What she told you, sir," faltered Jack.

The old man threw up his hands in horror.

"What! You really mean to tell me, Jack, that Minott has been stealing?"

Jack bent his head and his eyes sought the floor. He could hardly have
been more ashamed had he himself been the culprit.

"God bless my soul! From whom?"

"The church funds--he was trustee. The meeting is to-morrow, and it
would all have come out."

A great light broke over Peter--as when a window is opened in a darkened
room in which one has bees stumbling.

"And you have walked the streets try