Good! Yes!" exclaimed the magistrate. "I would have done the same
myself."

"I returned with my man," concluded Andrew Zane. "I was now so confident
that I did not fear; but a hard obstinacy, coming on me at times, I
know not how, impelled me to postpone my vindication and make a test of
everybody. I was full of suspicion and bitterness--the reaction from so
much undeserved anxiety. I was the ghost of Kensington, and the spy upon
my guardian, but the unknown sentry upon my wife's honor all the while.

"Magistrate!"--the young man turned to the alderman, and his face
flushed--"is there no punishment at law for men, and women too, who have
cruelly persecuted my wife with anonymous letters, intended to wound her
brave spirit to the quick?"

"Plenty of it," said the magistrate. "Yes, I will. I will warrant them
all."

"I will not forget it," said Andrew Zane darkly.

"My husband, forget everything!" exclaimed Agnes. "Except that we are
happy. God has forgiven us our only deceit, which has been the
temptation of many in dear old Kensington."

The old magistrate arose. "Case dismissed," he said: "Dinner is ready in
the next room for Mr. and Mrs. Zane, and Judge Salter. I fine you all a
dinner. Yes, yes! I will!"

CHAPTER XI.

TREATY ELM.

Andrew Zane was leaning on his elbow, in bed, listening to the tolling
bell for the old pastor of Kensington. He had not attended the funeral,
fearing to trust his eyes and heart near Calvin Van de Lear, for the
unruly element in his blood was not wholly stilled. Good and evil,
gratitude and recollection, contended within him, and Agnes just escaped
from the long shadow of his father's rage--had forebodings of some
violence when the two young men should meet in the little thoroughfare
of Kensington--the one with the accumulated indignities he had suffered
liable to be aroused by the other's shallow superciliousness. Agnes had
but one friend to carry her fears to--Him "who never forsaketh." She had
not persisted that her husband should attend the old pastor's funeral,
whither Duff Salter escorted her, and going there, relieved from all
imputation, her evidently wedded state was seen with general respect.
People spoke to her as of old, congratulated her even at the grave, and
sought to repair their own misapprehensions, suspicions, and severities,
which Agnes accepted without duplicity.

Andrew Zane was leaning up in bed hearing the tolling bell when Agnes
reappeared.

"