me, I am assured he has been one of the best
of husbands to her. Still, I know from a
gentleman who attended the sale, that Mr.
Garston was not present at it; and, on that
morning, he had in his shirt an antique cameo-
sort of thing, which your mother remarked
was not there on his return."

"Perhaps in the scuffle—" I began.

"I have heard of that. Why this trepidation,
Arthur? It is not your interest to take
his part, I can tell you. Scuffle! there was
no scuffle at the sale, I told you just now he
was not at it. The end, then, is this. Garston
must submit to be put to the question. I
shall call to-morrow morning. On his
answers much will depend. Prepare him for
what is to come. Your mother shrinks from
it; but it must be. He is a gentleman, at
least, and knows the obligation of an oath."

With this Meredith left me. I hated myself
for the part I had to play; of which I knew
not the gradations, much less the end. I did
not prepare Garston for the coming interview:
my wretched business being to preserve him
against the detection of a crime in conjunction
with the girl, of far greater magnitude than
that with which suspicion charged him.

Accordingly, when next morning Meredith
entered the room and summoned him to the
bedside of his wife, his consternation was so
obvious, that Meredith turned to me with a
meaning glance. He rallied, however, and
rose to obey the summons, earnestly begging
that I might be permitted to accompany him.

"My wish, too," said Meredith. "Arthur's
testimony, if not absolutely necessary, is
highly desirable in this instance."

Garston shrank at the word testimony.
Meredith went on:

"But—for a reason which, after this painful
scene is over, Arthur will understand—it
will be as well that his mother should not see
him. He can stand concealed behind the
curtains of the bed."

We went on our way, Garston clinging to me.
The clergyman had left my mother's room,
and bowed courteously, but very gravely, as
he passed us in the passage. My companion
pressed my arm, and turned a piteous look
upon me. We entered: I snatched a
momentary sight of my dear mother's face, and
stepped behind the curtain out of view, where
I wept unheard.

The sacredness of the room fell upon
Garston. He knelt down by the side of his
wife, took her hand, and kissed it. Meredith
stood at the head of the bed. He was
affected; but his misty eyes were bent on
the kneeling man.

"Compose yourself, Philip," said my mother,
gently and calmly. "I sent for you that I
might say what may distress you to hear.
I grieve for it; but I would wish your death-
bed to be as tranquil as mine. I hope—O!
I do trust—that what I have done and am
about to say will not be deemed wrong.
Anna——"

"Well?"

A faint blush passed over my mother's
countenance. She hesitated.

"Let me speak, my dear lady," interposed
Meredith. "A word or two will suffice.
You must not agitate yourself. Mr. Garston,
are you prepared, on the word of a gentleman
solemnly to assert that you have held no
correspondence whatever with Anna since she
left your wife's house?"

"I am prepared to assert—and, if necessary
to swear," replied Garston, not looking
up, but with an equal voice—"that I have
not exchanged word, by letter or otherwise,
with Anna since the day she left this house."

"And, also—" began Meredith.

"Enough," said my mother. "Dear Philip,
I believe that you have spoken the truth.
For your sake, and for that of the poor girl,
I thank God that this doubt has been removed
from my mind. I forgive you, as I was
prepared to forgive you, after Anna confessed to
me—"

"Confessed to you!" almost shrieked Garston,
"and she confessed, and you had
forgiven! Why—why am I here—kneeling
here; a villain, a monster, unfit to live. Hear
now, hear, all of you! Arthur, come forward,
and hear—"

I was instantly by his side. Seizing him,
I lifted him to his feet and dragged him
to the door, and thence urged him, with less
violence, to his own room.

"You were agitating my mother beyond
endurance," I said, placing him in a chair.

"What?" He looked bewildered. "Arthur,
you are my good angel. How can I
recompense you for all you have done, and
suffered for me? Stay with me, dear fellow!"

After a time, Meredith knocked at the
door and came in. The kindly eye lighted
upon Garston.

"But for you, Garston," he said, with
familiarity, "this had not been. You have
repudiated the girl, denied all knowledge of
her; but she is still a source of vexation and
misery. Your mother now blames herself,
Arthur, for having dismissed her so summarily,
or for not having seen better to her
safety. She now wishes to add a codicil to
her will, making a provision for her; but
that I tell her—"

"Is unnecessary," said Garston. "That
were my duty, if—"

"If what?"

"She should ever need it. But why—why
should the dear saint be troubled in her
last hours by thoughts of the girl? I have
sinned, and am forgiven. Let her go."

"And I am to tell this to your wife, sir?"
observed Meredith, with severe displeasure.

"Let her go! let her go!" repeated Garston;
then, rising, added in a low tone to me,
"And bid him go. I do not like him. He is
no friend of mine."

Meredith must have overheard these words.
He withdrew immediately.