the doctor said, and into the brown eyes, now bloodshot
and dim with anguish, there came the hard, fierce look, before which
Alice Johnson once had shuddered, when Adah Hastings said:

"I should hate him! Yes, I should hate him!"

And in that dark hour of agony Adah felt that she did hate him. She knew
now that what she before would not believe was true. He had not made her
a lawful wife, else he had never dared to take another.

She did not hear him now, for with that prayer, all consciousness
forsook her, and she lay on her face insensible, while at the very last
he did confess to Anna that Lily was his wife. He did not say unlawfully
so. He could not tell her that. He said:

"I married her privately. I would bring her back if I could, but I
cannot, and I shall marry 'Lina."

"But," and Anna grasped his hand nervously. "I thought you told me once,
that you won her love, and then, when mother's harsh letters came, left
her without a word. Was that story false?"

The doctor was wading out in deep water, and in desperation he added
lie to lie, saying:

"Yes, that was false. I tell you I married her, and she died. Was I to
blame for that?"

"No, no. I'd far rather it were so. I respect you more than if you had
left her. I am glad, not that she died, but that you are not so bad as I
feared. Sweet Lily," and Anna's tears flowed fast.

There was a knock at the door, and Jim appeared, inquiring if the doctor
would have the carriage brought around. It was nearly time to go, and
with the whispered words to Anna, "I have told you what no one else must
ever know," the doctor descended with his sister to the parlor, where
his mother was waiting for him. The opening and shutting of the door
caused a draught of air, which, falling on the fainting Adah, restored
her to consciousness, and struggling to her feet, she tried to think
what it was that had happened.

"Oh, George! George!" she gasped. "You are worse than I believed. You
have made me an outcast, and Willie--"

George was a greater villain than she had imagined a man could be, and
again her white lips essayed to curse him, but the rash act was stayed
by the low words whispered in her ear, "Forgive as we would be
forgiven."

"If it were not for Willie, I might, but, oh! my boy, my boy disgraced,"
was the rebellious spirit's answer, when again the voice whispered, "And
who art thou to contend against thy God? Know you not that I am the
Father of the fatherless?"