d
simply,--

"I'm real glad of it, Elick. You'll find two shirts in the middle
drawer. I think the under one's the best."

Matilda went back to her work, and thought how the stain would be wiped
away. "They'll have to give in that he's a good man now," she said to
herself. She fought with the smile that would curve her lips. The
minister would announce it on Sabbath. "By letter from sister
congregations," and then the names; and then, "On profession of faith,
Alexander Randall." She tried to stifle her pride. It must be pride, she
said,--it must be something evil that could make her so very, _very_
happy.

III.

It was late when Alex came home, and he did the chores after supper.
Mary Frances and Wattie had gone to singing-school and Matilda was alone
in the kitchen when her husband came in. He sat down on the doorstep,
with his back to her and his head down, and stuck the blade of his
jack-knife into the pine step between his feet. There was a long
silence, and when he spoke his voice had a husky embarrassment.

"There's something I suppose I'd ought to have talked to you about all
this time, Matildy, but somehow I couldn't seem to do it. I had a talk
with Mr. Anderson, and he brought it up before the Session, and they
didn't seem to think anything more need to be said about it. It's all
dead and gone now, and of course you know I've been sorry time and time
and again. I don't suppose I ought to say it, but it wasn't altogether
my fault. She never did act right, but then, of course"--

"_Elick!_"

The man heard his name in a quick gasp behind him. He turned and looked
up. Matilda was standing over him, with a white, distorted face.

"Do you mean--to tell me--that it was _true_?"

She got the words out with an effort. Her chin worked convulsively. She
looked an old, old woman.

"True?"

The man lifted a dazed, questioning face to hers. He groped his way back
through twenty years. This woman had believed in him all the time! He
saw her take two or three steps backward and fall into a chair. They
sat there until the room grew dark. The wind began to blow through the
house, and Alex got up and put out the cat and shut the door. Then he
went to his wife's side.

"Don't you think you'd better go to bed, Matildy?"

She shook her head.

"I suppose there's such a thing as repentance," he went on, with a rasp
in his voice, "and a blotting out of sins, isn't there, Matildy?"

She put out her hand and pushed