t the matter, this crime or this disgrace--I quote your own
words--must have taken place between sixty and seventy years ago, and
your father expressly declares that he had nothing to do with it."

"But if the old woman had," began Valentine vehemently, and paused.

"How can that be?" answered Giles. "He says, 'I know not in her case
what I could have done,' and that he has never judged her."

Valentine heaved up a mighty sigh, excitement made his pulses beat and
his hands tremble.

"What made you think," he said, "that it was so long ago? I am so
surprised that I cannot think coherently."

"To tell you why I think so, is to tell you something more that I
believe you don't know."

"Well," said the poor fellow, sighing restlessly, "out with it, Giles."

"Your father began life by running away from home."

"Oh, I know that."

"You do?"

"Yes, my dear father told it to me some weeks before he died, but I did
not like it, I wished to dismiss it from my thoughts."

"Indeed! but will you try to remember now, how he told it to you and
what he said."

"It was very simple. Though now I come to think of it, with this new
light thrown upon it--Yes; he did put it very oddly, very strangely, so
that I did not like the affair, or to think of it. He said that as there
was now some intercourse between us and Melcombe, a place that he had
not gone near for so very many years, it was almost certain, that,
sooner or later, I should hear something concerning himself that would
surprise me. It was singular that I had not heard it already. I did not
like to hear him talk in his usual pious way of such an occurrence; for
though of course we know that all things _are_ overruled for good to
those who love God----"

"Well?" said Brandon, when he paused to ponder.

"Well," repeated Valentine, "for all that, and though he referred to
that very text, I did not like to hear him say that he blessed God he
had been led to do it; and that, if ever I heard of it, I was to
remember that he thought of it with gratitude."

Saying this, he turned over the pages again. "But there is nothing of
that here," he said, "how did you discover it?"

"I was told of it at Melcombe," said Brandon, hesitating.

"By whom?"

"It seemed to be familiarly known there." He glanced at the _Times_
which was laid on the table just beyond the desk at which Valentine sat.
"It was little Peter Melcombe," he said gravely, "who mentioned it to
me."

"What! th