cilla a little vaguely.

Audrey bent over her plate to conceal a smile; but she was spared the
necessity of answering, as just then the two men entered.

It was the first meal that Audrey had failed to enjoy at Vineyard
Cottage; and notwithstanding all her efforts to second Mr. O'Brien's
attempt at cheerfulness, she felt that she failed most signally. Neither
of them could induce Mat O'Brien to enter into conversation; his gloomy
silence or brief monosyllabic replies compelled even his brother at last
to desist from any such attempt.

Now and then Audrey stole a furtive glance at him as he sat moodily
looking out into the twilight. The handsome lad was still a
good-looking man; but the deep-seated melancholy in the dark eyes
oppressed Audrey almost painfully: there was a hopelessness in their
expression that filled her with pity.

Why had he let that one failure, that sad lapse from honesty, stamp his
old life with shame? Had he not expiated his sin? Why was he so beaten
down and crushed with remorse and suffering that he had only longed to
end an existence that seemed God-forsaken and utterly useless? And then,
half unconsciously, she noted the one serious defect in his face--the
weak, receding chin; and she guessed that the mouth hidden under the
heavy moustache was weak too.

'I will not ask you what you think of Mat to-night,' observed Mr.
O'Brien, as he accompanied Audrey to the gate; 'he has not been used to
a lady's company, and he has grown into silent ways, living so much
alone.'

'He looks terribly unhappy.'

'Ay, poor chap, he is unhappy enough; he has got a load on his heart
that he is carrying alone. Sometimes it makes my heart ache, Miss Ross,
to see him sitting there, staring into the fire, and fetching up a sigh
now and then. But there, as Susan says, "The heart knoweth its own
bitterness"; but if ever a man is in trouble, Mat is that man.'

And Audrey felt that her old friend was right.

CHAPTER XXXI

'WILL YOU CALL THE GUARD?'

'Plead guilty at man's bar, and go to judgment straight;
At God's no other way remains to shun that fate.'

ARCHBISHOP TRENCH.

Captain Burnett had settled his business, and was returning again to
Rutherford after more than a month's absence. He would willingly have
lingered in town longer. Lonely as his bachelor quarters were, he felt
he was safer in them than in his cosy rooms under his cousin's roof,