sford going to do about the checks?"

"He insists upon our paying, and we must get the money from somebody.
Mrs. Swinton has none. We must put the case to the rector, and get him to
reimburse the bank to avoid a lawsuit and a public scandal. Poor Swinton
set things right by his death. There was no other way out. He died like a
brave man, and he will be remembered as a hero, except by those who know
the truth; and I am powerless to keep that back now. Believe me, Miss
Dundas, if I had known of his death, I would have cut out my tongue
rather than have published the story of the crime, which was the original
cause of his going to the war."

"So, you still believe him to be a coward as well as a thief," she cried,
hotly. "You are a hypocrite. It was you who really sent him away. He
never meant to go. He didn't want to go. And now you have killed him."

"Hush, hush, Dora!" cried the colonel.

"I believe it was all some scheme of your own," cried the girl,
hysterically. "You are the coward. I shall believe nothing until I've
seen Mrs. Swinton, and hear what the rector has to say about it. Dick was
the soul of honor. He was no thief."

"He was in debt, my girl," cried the colonel. "You don't understand the
position of a young man placed as he was. Herresford was understood to
have discarded him as his heir. No doubt the young fellow had raised
money on his expectations. Creditors were making existence a burden to
him. Many a soldier has ended things with a revolver and an inquest for
less than seven thousand dollars."

"Ah, that sort of death requires a different kind of courage," sneered
Ormsby, who was nettled by Dora's taunts.

"I won't listen to you," she cried. "You are defaming the man I love. He
couldn't go away with such things on his conscience. It is all some
wicked plot."

Ormsby shrugged his shoulders, and the colonel sighed despondently, while
Dora swept out of the room, drawing her skirts away from Ormsby as though
his touch were contamination.

CHAPTER XIV

MRS. SWINTON CONFESSES

Those who heard of the heroic death of Dick Swinton soon heard also of
the disgraceful circumstances surrounding his departure. His volunteering
was now looked upon as a flight from justice; his death as a suicide to
avoid the inevitable punishment of his crime.

Everybody knew--except the rector.

He, poor man, comforted in his sorrow by the thought that his son's
memory would be forever glorious, manfully end