grave man nevertheless went on, solemnly finishing this
communication. As for Josephine, she had shrunk back in her chair,
knowing not which way to turn.

"Sirs," concluded the gentleman who now occupied the floor, "while
I do not find full confirmation herein of all the statements this
lady has made to us, I do discover this document to be not without
interest. At its close, I find in a different handwriting--Madam,
may I guess it to be your own?--the addendum--let me see,--Ah, yes,
it says merely two words: '_The darling_!'"

He approached, and laid just the lightest, gentlest hand upon the
shoulder of the disturbed woman, who sat speechless, her face
suffused. "Your documents are regular, Madam," he said kindly.
"As for this other, which perhaps was the one you intended me to
read, that is private matter. It is not necessary even for myself
to read it. There will be no further exhibits in this case. I am
sure that I voice the feeling of every gentleman present here
however, Madam, if I say that although we have not curiosity as to
the terms of this communication, we have deep regret over its
advices to you. If your fortunes have been ruined, they have been
ruined in a cause in which a kind heart and an active brain were
deeply enlisted. You have our regrets."

"Sir!" He turned now toward the tall gentleman who sat silent at
the head of the table. "I am sure there is no further need for
this lady's attendance here. For my own part, I thank her. She
has offered us no remedy, I fear. In turn, there seems none we can
extend to her."

"Wait a moment!" interrupted a voice from the opposite side of the
table.

The leader shifted in his seat as he turned toward Josephine St.
Auban. "This is the gentleman from Kentucky," he said. "We
usually find his words of interest. Tarry, then, for just a moment
longer."

A tall figure was visible in the half light, as the clear voice of
the gentleman so described went on.

"Sir, and gentlemen, there is no Kentuckian,--no, nor any man from
any other state here present--who could suffer this matter to
conclude just as it is now. This is not all. This matter but
begins. We have invited to attend us a lady whose activities we
considered dangerous,--that is the plain truth of it, and we all
know it, and she may know it. Instead of that, we find here with
us now a woman in distress. Which of us would have the courage to
endure with equal equanimity that which