telligence to adjust the misshapen affairs of men and women," the
Judge went on. "Never have I been forced to deal with so terrible a
question as lies before me now--to-night."

For a long time, then, he was silent. Finally I spoke.

"Judge," said I, "how can I help?"

"I am afraid," he said slowly, and apparently avoiding my gaze,--"I am
afraid that I must call upon you in a manner which will severely weigh
upon you. Estabrook," he put his hand upon my shoulder. "I've done my
best. Do you hear? I've done my best."

"I will never doubt it," I assured him. "Nor do you need to doubt me."

He looked at me steadily for a second; then he went to a drawer and,
opening it, took out a packet of folded papers. It was evident that he
had placed it there so that he could reach it easily.

I suppose that the gravity of his bearing, the trembling of his hands,
in which these papers rustled, and the anxious expression with which he
gazed at me, as if I were to decide some question of life or death,
infected me with his unrest. I got up, paced back and forth, and finally
sat down again facing his empty easy-chair, with my back to the long
windows.

The Judge watched every movement I made, his eyes staring out at me from
under the brush of their brows. At last, when I had seated myself, he
came and sat in front of me, laid the papers on his knees and smoothed
them with the palm of his shaking hand.

"My boy," he said, "I wrote these papers, not for you, but for my
Julianna. Never has a man had a task so calculated to break his heart.
She was not to read my message to her unless death came and took me, for
while I lived, I felt that I might spare her. See! Her name is written
across this outside page."

I could find no words to fill the pauses which he seemed obliged to
make, for, as you may well believe, I felt the presence of a crisis in
my affairs--in the affairs of all of us.

"But, my boy," he went on, "what these pages contain is now for you, if
you so decide."

"Decide?" I managed to say. "What must I decide?"

"I will tell you if God gives me the strength to do it," he said. "It is
about Julianna. It is written here. I have sealed it as you see."

"Something about her?" I cried.

He bent his head as if I had struck him from above.

"You may break the seal if you must. I have fought many battles to bring
myself to tell you that you may read what is there."

I reached for the package.

"Wait," said he. "The co