the scoundrel by her kindness,
her forbearance, her wish not to do him the least shadow of injustice,
but to give him every chance of proving himself worthy of her tolerance;
and--"

The judge choked, and Breckon eagerly asked, "And shall I--may I see her
now?"

"Why--yes," the judge faltered. "If you're sure--"

"What about?" Breckon demanded.

"I don't know whether she will believe that I have told you."

"I will try to convince her. Where shall I see her?"

"I will go and tell her you are here. I will bring her--"

Kenton passed into the adjoining room, where his wife laid hold of
him, almost violently. "You did it beautifully, Rufus," she huskily
whispered, "and I was so afraid you would spoil everything. Oh, how
manly you were, and how perfect he was! But now it's my turn, and I will
go and bring Ellen--You will let me, won't you?"

"You may do anything you please, Sarah. I don't want to have any more of
this," said the judge from the chair he had dropped into.

"Well, then, I will bring her at once," said Mrs. Kenton, staying only
in her gladness to kiss him on his gray head; he received her embrace
with a superficial sultriness which did not deceive her.

Ellen came back without her mother, and as soon as she entered the room,
and Breckon realized that she had come alone, he ran towards her as if
to take her in his arms. But she put up her hand with extended fingers,
and held him lightly off.

"Did poppa tell you?" she asked, with a certain defiance. She held her
head up fiercely, and spoke steadily, but he could see the pulse beating
in her pretty neck.

"Yes, he told me--"

"And--well?"

"Oh, I love you, Ellen--"

"That isn't it. Did you care?"

Breckon had an inspiration, an inspiration from the truth that dwelt at
the bottom of his soul and had never yet failed to save him. He let his
arms fall and answered, desperately: "Yes, I did. I wished it hadn't
happened." He saw the pulse in her neck cease to beat, and he swiftly
added, "But I know that it happened just because you were yourself, and
were so--"

"If you had said you didn't care," she breathlessly whispered, "I would
never have spoken to you." He felt a conditional tremor creeping into
the fingers which had been so rigid against his breast. "I don't see how
I lived through it! Do you think you can?"

"I think so," he returned, with a faint, far suggestion of levity that
brought from her an imperative, imploring--

"Don't!"