an indorsement that the other could not withstand.
She followed Nan, and said very firmly and earnestly, "It shall be as my
mother wishes."

"I hope you will never have cause to regret it," remarked Pulaski Tomlin
solemnly.

"She never will," Nan declared emphatically, as Pulaski Tomlin turned to
go upstairs.

He went up very slowly, as if lost in thought. He went to the room and
stood leaning against the framework of the door. "Pulaski is here," said
Miss Fanny, who had been waiting to announce his return.

"You remember, Pulaski," the invalid began, "that once when you were
ill, you would not permit me to see you. I was so ignorant that I was
angry; yes, and bitter; my vanity was wounded. And I was ignorant and
bitter for many years. I never knew until eighteen months ago why I was
not permitted to see you. I knew it one day, after I had been ill a long
time. I looked in the mirror and saw my wasted face and hollow eyes. I
knew then, and if I had known at first, Pulaski, everything would have
been so different. I have come all this terrible journey to ask you to
take my daughter and care for her. It is my last wish that you should be
her guardian and protector. Is she in the room? Can she hear what I am
about to say?"

"No, Margaret," replied Pulaski Tomlin, in a voice that was tremulous
and husky. "She is downstairs; I have just seen her."

"Well, she has no father according to my way of thinking," Margaret
Bridalbin went on. "Her father is a deserter from the Confederate army.
She doesn't know that; I tried to tell her, but my heart failed me.
Neither does she know that I have been divorced from him. These things
you can tell her when the occasion arises. If I had told her, it would
have been like accusing myself. I was responsible--I felt it and feel
it--and I simply could not tell her."

"I shall try to carry out your wishes, Margaret," said Pulaski Tomlin;
"I have seen your daughter, as Fanny suggested, and she has no objection
to the arrangement. I shall do all that you desire. She shall be to me a
most sacred charge."

"If you knew how happy you are making me, Pulaski--Oh, I am
grateful--grateful!"

"There should be no talk of gratitude between you and me, Margaret."

At a signal from Pulaski Tomlin, Judge Odom cleared his throat, and read
the document that he had drawn up, and his strong, business-like voice
went far toward relieving the strain that had been put on those who
heard the conversation