can be done, a long account. You
have not let my wife know who saved me. That appears from her letters.
She asks the name of my rescuer. I have not yet told her. But she will
know that to-day when I tell her all."

"When you tell her all?"

"When I tell her all."

"But you shall not do that."

"I will. It will be the beginning of the confession which I shall
afterwards make to the world."

"By Heaven you shall not do it. Do you want to wreck her life?"

Jaspar Hume's face was wrathful, and remained so till the other sank
back in the chair with his forehead in his hands; but it softened as he
saw this remorse and shame. He began to see that Lepage had not clearly
grasped the whole situation. He said in quieter but still firm tones:
"No, Lepage, that matter is between us two, and us alone. She must never
know--the world therefore must never know. You did an unmanly thing;
you are suffering a manly remorse. Now let it end here--but I swear it
shall," he said in sharp tones, as the other shook his head negatively:
"I would have let you die at Manitou Mountain, if I had thought you
would dare to take away your wife's peace--your children's respect."

"I have no children; our baby died."

Hume softened again. "Can you not see, Lepage? The thing cannot be
mended. I bury it all, and so must you. You will begin the world again,
and so shall I. Keep your wife's love. Henceforth you will deserve it."

Lepage raised moist eyes to the other and said: "But you will take back
the money I got for that?"

There was a pause, then Hume replied: "Yes, upon such terms, times,
and conditions as I shall hereafter fix. You have no child, Lepage?" he
gently added.

"We have no child; it died with my fame."

Hume looked steadily into the eyes of the man who had wronged him.
"Remember, Lepage, you begin the world again. I am going now. By the
memory of old days, good-bye." He held out his hand. Lepage took it,
rose tremblingly to his feet, and said, "You are a good man, Hume.
Good-bye."

The sub-factor turned at the door. "If it will please you, tell
your wife that I saved you. Some one will tell her; perhaps I would
rather--at least it would be more natural, if you did it."

He passed out into the sunshine that streamed into the room and fell
across the figure of Lepage, who murmured dreamily: "And begin the world
again."

Time passed. A shadow fell across the sunlight that streamed upon
Lepage. He looked up. There was a star