old him I didn't blame him a bit and suggested that I be
permitted to paddle my own canoe, as it were. Thanked him for calling,
but told him he needn't call again. He departed in great distress."

"I hold no brief for the Reverend Tingley, Nan; but I'll be shot if
your story will hold water in a world that's fairly well acquainted
with the frailty of humankind. Of course I believe you--and, for some
fool reason, I'm not ashamed of my own intelligence in so believing. I
have accepted you on faith. What sets my reason tottering on its
throne is the fact that you insist upon protecting this scoundrel."

"I insist upon protecting his wife. I love her. She has been kind to
me. She's the only friend of my own sex that I have ever known. She's
tubercular, and will not live many years. She has two children--and
she adores her scamp of a husband. If I cannot convict that man of
bigamy, would it not be foolish of me to try? And why should I inflict
upon her, who has shown me kindness and love, a brimming measure of
humiliation and sorrow and disgrace? I can bear my burden a year or
two longer, I think; then, when she is gone, I can consider my
vindication." She patted his hand to emphasize her unity of purpose.
"That's the way I've figured it all out--the whole, crazy-quilt
pattern, and if you have a better scheme, and one that isn't founded
on human selfishness, I'm here to listen to it."

A long silence fell between them.

"Well, dear heart?" she demanded finally.

"I wasn't thinking of _that_," he replied slowly. "I was just trying
to estimate how much more I love you this minute than I did five
minutes ago."

He drew her golden head down on his shoulder and held her to him a
long time without speaking. It was Nan who broke the spell by saying:

"When the time comes for my vindication, I shall ask you to attend to
it for me, dear. You're my man--and I think it's a man's task."

His great fingers opened and closed in a clutching movement. He
nodded.

XVII

When Donald returned to The Dreamerie about eleven o'clock, he was
agreeably surprised to find his father in the living-room.

"Hello, dad!" he greeted The Laird cheerfully. "Glad to see you. When
did you get back?"

"Came down on the morning train, Donald."

They were shaking hands now. The Laird motioned him to a chair, and
asked abruptly.

"Where have you been all day, son?"

"Well, I represented the clan at church this morning, and, after
lunch