e was to be
prolonged, she refused to make the confession she had summoned me to
hear. So long as there was any prospect of her recovery, she said, she
must keep the matter a secret. But she could not die and leave it untold.
Therefore she promised that whenever she should feel death approaching
she should send again for me, and relieve her soul by the confession of
her sin. A few days ago came her second summons.

"Previous to this only a little while, I had been inadvertently a
listener to an altercation between Archer Trevlyn and his wife, during
which Mrs. Trevlyn, in a fit of rage, denounced her husband as the
murderer of Paul Linmere. She produced proofs, which I confess struck me
as strangely, satisfactory, and affirmed her belief in his guilt. She
also told him that because the knowledge of his crime had come to you,
you had discarded him, and left New York, to be rid of him forever!

"So knowing this, when I listened to the dying confession of Arabel Vere,
I knew that this confession would clear Archer Trevlyn from all shadow of
suspicion. Arabel died, and I buried her. Previous to her death--perhaps,
to guard against accident, perhaps, guided by the hand of a mysterious
Providence to clear the fair fame of an injured man--she wrote out at
length the history of her life. She gave it to me. I have it here. It
will explain to you all that you will desire to know."

He gave her the manuscript, wrung her hand, and left her.

* * * * *

Far into the night, Margie sat reading the closely-written sheets, penned
by the hand now pulseless in death. All was made clear; Archer Trevlyn
was fully exculpated. He was innocent of the crime which she had been
influenced to believe he had committed. She fell on her knees, and
thanked God for that. Though lost to her, it was a consolation ineffable
to know that he had not taken the life of a fellow-mortal.

Her resolution was taken before morning. She had deeply wronged Archer
Trevlyn, and she must go to him with a full confession, confess her
fault, and plead for his forgiveness.

Castrani, who came in the morning, approved her decision; and Nurse Day,
who was told the whole story, and listened with moist eyes, agreed with
them both. So it happened that on the ensuing morning Margie bade
farewell to the quiet home which had sheltered her through her bitterest
sorrow, and accompanied by Castrani, set forth for New York.

She went to her own