me ink that father used
for the signatures, and--and the bank found out."

"Horrible! horrible! But what has this to do with poor Dick? Why do
people turn away from me and stammer at the mention of his name, as
though they were ashamed? He, poor boy, knew nothing of all this."

"John, John, you don't understand yet!" she whispered, creeping nearer to
him, with extended hands, ready to entwine her arms about his neck. He
retreated, white-faced and terrified, thinking of the serpent in Eden and
the woman who tempted. She was tempting him now, coming nearer to wind
her soft arms about him and hold him close, so that he would be
powerless, as he always was when her breath was on his cheek, and her
eyes pleading for a bending of his stern principles before her
more-worldly needs.

She held him tight-clasped to her until he could feel the beating of her
heart and the heaving of her bosom against his breast. It was thus that
she had often cajoled him to buy things that he could not afford, to
entertain people that he would rather not see, to indulge his children in
vanities and follies against his better judgment, to desert his plain
duty to his Church in favor of some social inanity. She was always
tempting, caressing, and charming him with playful banter when he would
be serious, weakening him when he would be strong, coaxing him to play
when he would have worked. He had been as wax in her hands; but hitherto
her sins had been little ones, and chiefly sins of omission.

"John! John!" she whispered huskily, with her lips close to his ear. "You
must promise not to hate me, not to curse me when you have heard. You'll
despise me, you'll be horrified. But promise--promise that you won't be
cruel."

"I am never cruel, Mary. Tell me--how is Dick implicated?"

"John, I have done a more dreadful thing than stealing money."

"Mary!"

"I have denied my sin--not for my own sake; no, John, it was for all our
sakes--for yours, for Netty's, for her future husband's, for the good of
the church where you have worked so hard and have become so
indispensable."

"Don't torture me! Speak plainly--speak out!" he gasped, with labored
breath, as though he were choking.

"The bank people thought that Dick altered the checks, John. Of course,
if he had lived, I should have confessed that it was not he, but I. I saw
our chance when the dreadful news came. They couldn't punish him for his
mother's sin, and they were powerless, if I denied a