s part now. He was on fire with the
determination to do the duty that lay so plainly in his sight. He did
not stop to argue with himself, he scarcely saw a person or a thing
along his path; he never rested from his rapid journey till he reached
the door of Mrs. Burnham's house.

A servant came in answer to his ring at the bell, and gave him
pleasant greeting. She said that Mrs. Burnham had gone to Wilkesbarre,
that she had started an hour before, that she had said she would come
back in the early evening and would doubtless bring her son with her.

Ralph looked up into the woman's face, and his eyes grew dim.

"Thank you," he said, repressing a sob, and he went down the steps
with a choking in his throat and a pain at his heart.

He turned at the gate, and looked back through the half-opened door
into the rich shadows that lay beyond it, with a ray of crimson light
from the stained glass window cleaving them across, and then his eyes
were blinded with tears, and he could see no more. The gates of his
Eden were closed behind him; he felt that he should never enter them
again.

But this was no time for sorrow and regret.

He wiped the tears from his eyes and turned his face resolutely toward
the heart of the city.

At the railroad station he was told that the next train would leave
for Wilkesbarre at twelve o'clock.

It lacked half an hour of that time now. There was nothing to do but
to wait. He began to mark out in his mind the course he should pursue
on reaching Wilkesbarre. He thought he would inquire the way to Mr.
Goodlaw's office, and go directly to it and tell the whole story to
him. Perhaps Mrs. Burnham would be there too, that would be better
yet, more painful but better. Then he should follow their advice as
to the course to be pursued. It was more than likely that they would
want him to testify as a witness. That would be strange, too, that
he should give such evidence voluntarily as would deprive him of a
beautiful home, of a loving mother, and of an honored name. But he was
ready to do it; he was ready to do anything now that seemed right and
best, anything that would meet the approval of his Uncle Billy and of
his own conscience.

When the train was ready he found a seat in the cars and waited
impatiently for them to start. For some reason they were late in
getting away, but, once started, they seemed to be going fast enough
to make up for lost time.

In the seats behind Ralph was a merry party