n's wife. She attended church meetings, mothers' meetings, gave
away prizes, talked with old women and bores, and went to church four
times on Sunday--and all this as a salve to her conscience, with a
desperate hope that it would help to smooth away difficulties if they
ever arose.

That "if" was her mainstay. Her last forgery was a very serious
affair--she did not realize how serious, or how large the sum, until the
first excitement had died down, and all the money had been paid away. The
possibility of raising any more funds by the same methods was quite out
of the question.

She was dimly conscious of a growing terror of her father. He was by
nature merciless, and had always seemed to hate her. If he discovered her
fraud, would he spare her for the sake of the family name and honor?

No. He would do something, but what? She dared not contemplate. She dared
not think of the frailness of the barriers which stood between herself
and the possible consequences of her crime. Sometimes, she awoke in the
night with a damp sweat upon her, and saw herself arraigned in the dock
as a criminal charged with robbing her father. In the daylight, she
rated her possible punishment as something lower. Perhaps, he would
arrange to have his money back by stopping her allowance, and so leave
her stranded until the debt was paid off--or he would beggar her by
stopping it altogether. Another thought came often. Before anything was
found out, the old man might die. That would mean her deliverance. Yet,
again, if he left her nothing, or Dick either, then it spelt ruin, which
would shadow all their lives. The thought was unbearable. She tried to
forget it in a ceaseless activity.

The thunderbolt fell on a day that she had devoted to her husband's
interests.

The bishop was having luncheon with the rector. The Mission Hall was to
be opened in the afternoon, and the bishop had promised to be present.
The full amount of the building funds had been subscribed, thus
reimbursing the clergyman to the extent of a thousand dollars, the amount
promised by Herresford and never paid.

The ceremony brought to St. Botolph's Mission Hall the oddly-assorted
crowd which generally finds its way to such functions. There were smart
people, just a scattering of the cultured, dowdy and dull folk, who had
"helped the good cause," and expected to get as much sober entertainment
in return as might be had for the asking. Then, there were the
ever-present army o