"Anything wrong?" she asked in alarm.

"He was in my office when you telephoned," said the judge. "I'll let him
tell his story as he told it to me.... I think I ought to ask you
something first, though.... Did any one ever tell you that you had a
brother Paul? ..."

"Yes," said Mary, her heart contracting.

Throughout the recital she sat breathless. Now and then the colour rose
to her cheeks, and more than once the tears came to her eyes, especially
when Hutchins' voice broke, and when he said in tones of pride, "Before
we could stop him, Master Paul was over the rail and in the water--"

More than once Mary looked away to hide her emotion, glancing around the
room at her forebears who had never seemed so attentive as then. "You may
well listen," thought Mary. "He may have been the black sheep of the
family, but you see what he did in the end...."

Hutchins told them about the search which he and Archey had made up and
down the banks, aided with a flashlight, climbing, calling, and sometimes
all but falling in the stream themselves. "But it was no use, Miss Mary,"
he concluded. "Master Paul is past all finding, I'm afraid."

For a long time Mary sat silent, her handkerchief to her eyes.

"Archey is still looking," said the judge, rising. "I'll start another
searching party at once. And telephone the towns below, too. We are bound
to find him if we keep on looking, you know--"

They found him sooner than they expected, in the grassy basin at the bend
of the river, where the high water of the night before had borne him--in
the place where he had loved to dream his dreams of youth and adventure
when life was young and the future full of promise. He was lying on his
side, his head on his arm, his face turned to the whispering river, and
there perhaps he was dreaming again--those eternal dreams which only
those who have gone to their rest can know.

CHAPTER XXXVII

Time, quickly passing, brought Mary to another wonderful morning in the
Story of her life. Even as her father's death had broadened her outlook,
so now Paul's heroism gave her a deeper glance at the future, a more
tolerant view of the past.

On the morning in question, Helen brought Wally to the office. He was now
entirely recovered, but Helen still mothered him, every touch a caress,
every glance a look of love. Mary grew very thoughtful as she watched
them. The next morning they were leaving for a tour of the Maine woods.

When they left, a