ry thing he had said of Mr. Van Boozenberg. But
of late, his hair was growing very gray, his brow very wrinkled, his
expression very anxious and weary. When he remembered the old banker,
it was with no self-reproach that he himself was now doing what, in the
banker's case, he had held up to Abel's scorn. It was only to remember
that the wary old man had shut down the portcullis of the bank vaults,
and that loans were getting to be almost impossible. His face darkened.
He swore a sharp oath. "That--old villain!"

CHAPTER XLII.

CLEARING AND CLOUDY.

It was summer again, and Aunt Martha sat sewing in the hardest of wooden
chairs, erect, motionless. Yet all the bleakness of the room was
conquered by the victorious bloom of Amy's cheeks, and the tender
maidenliness of Amy's manner, and the winning, human, sympathetic
sweetness which was revealed in every word and look of Amy, who sat
beside her aunt, talking.

"Amy, Lawrence Newt has been here."

The young woman looked almost troubled.

"No, Amy, I know you did not tell him," said Aunt Martha. "I was all
alone here, as usual, and heard a knock. I cried, 'Who's there?' for
I was afraid to open the door, lest I should see some old friend. 'A
friend,' was the reply. My knees trembled, Amy. I thought the time had
come for me to be exposed to the world, that the divine wrath might be
fulfilled in my perfect shame. I had no right to resist, and said,
'Come in!' The door opened, and a man entered whom I did not at first
recognize. He looked at me for a moment kindly--so kindly, that it seemed
to me as if a gentle hand were laid upon my head. Then he said, 'Martha
Darro.' 'I am ready,' I answered. But he came to me and took my hand,
and said, 'Why, Martha, have you forgotten Lawrence Newt?'"

She stopped in her story, and leaned back in her chair. The work fell
from her thin fingers, and she wept--soft tears, like a spring rain.

"Well?" said Amy, after a few moments, and her hand had taken Aunt
Martha's, but she let it go again when she saw that it helped her to
tell the story if she worked.

"He said he had seen you at the window one day, and he was resolved to
find out what brought you into Front Street. But before he could make up
his mind to come, he chanced to see me at the same window, and then he
waited no longer."

The tone was more natural than Amy had ever heard from Aunt Martha's
lips. She remarked that the severity of her costume was unchanged, exce