old face. "They say I'm no good. I don't
suppose I'd be allowed to be here, only I'm an old man, and I'm going to
die."

"But you're not!" Norah cried. "Dr. Anderson says you're not!
And--and--oh, you're making a great mistake. Everyone wants you."

"Me!" said the Hermit, in sudden bitter scorn. "No, only strangers like
you. Not my own."

"Oh, you don't know," Norah protested. She was painfully aware of the
order not to excite the patient, but it was awful to let him be so
unhappy! "Dad's not a stranger--he always knew you. And see how he wants
you!"

"Dad?" the Hermit questioned feebly. "Is David Linton your father?" She
nodded, and for a minute he was silent. "No wonder you and I were
friends!" he said. "But you're not all--not even you and Davy."

"No, but--"

He forced a smile, in pity for her perplexity.

"Dear little girl, you don't understand," he said. "There's something
even friendship can't wipe out, though such friendship as your father's
can bridge it over. But it's always there--a black, cruel gulf. And
that's disgrace!"

Norah could not bear the misery of his eyes.

"But if it's all a horrible mistake?" she said. "If everybody knew
it--?"

"If it's a mistake!"

The Hermit's hand was on her wrist like a vice. For a moment Norah
shivered in fear of what her words might have done.

"What do you mean? For God's sake, tell me?"

She steadied her voice to answer him bravely.

"Please, you mustn't get excited, dear Mr. Hermit," she said. "I'll tell
you. Dad told me all about it before we found you. It's all a terrible
mistake. Every one knows you were a good man. Everyone wants to be
friends with you. Only they thought you were dead."

"I managed that." His voice was sharp and eager. "I saw the other body
in the river and the rest was easy." He struggled for calmness and Norah
held a glass of water to his lips.

"Please don't get excited!" she begged.

"I won't," he smiled at her. "Tell me--does everyone know?"

"Everyone," Norah nodded. There was a step behind her and a sudden light
flashed into the Hermit's eyes.

"Davy! Is it true? I am cleared?"

"Years ago, old man." David Linton's voice was husky. "All the world
wants to make it up to you."

"All the world--they're only two!" the sick man said. "Do they know?"

"Yes."

"Where are they?"

For a moment Mr. Linton hesitated, not knowing what risk he might run.

"Oh! for pity's sake don't be cautious, David," the Hermit begged