f his double absences the very nights on which Fred had
made his visits; of the suspicions that resulted, the accusations, and
his refusal to explain and clear her name. Mrs. Maynard felt vaguely
relieved to see how slight an impression the young man had made on her
daughter's heart. Alice seemed but little surprised to hear of the
engagement to Nina Beaubien, of her rush to his rescue, and their
romantic parting. The tragedy of his death hushed all further talk on
that subject. There was one on which she could not hear enough, and that
was about the man who had been most instrumental in the rescue of her
name and honor. Alice had only tender sorrow and no reproach for her
step-father when, after her mother told her the story of his sad
experience twenty years before, she related his distress of mind and
suspicion when he read Jerrold's letter. It was then that Alice said,
"And against that piece of evidence no man, I suppose, would hold me
guiltless."

"You are wrong, dear," was her mother's answer. "It was powerless to
move Captain Armitage. He scouted the idea of your guilt from the moment
he set eyes on you, and never rested until he had overturned the last
atom of evidence. Even I had to explain," said her mother "simply to
confirm his theory of the light Captain Chester had seen and the shadows
and the form at the window. It was just exactly as Armitage reasoned it
out. I was wretched and wakeful, sleeping but fitfully, that night. I
arose and took some bromide about three o'clock and soon afterwards
heard a fall, or a noise like one. I thought of you and got up and went
in your room, and all was quiet there, but it seemed close and warm: so
I raised your shade, and then left both your door and mine open and went
back to bed. I dozed away presently, and then woke feeling all startled
again,--don't you know?--the sensation one experiences when aroused from
sleep, certain that there has been a strange and startling noise, and
yet unable to tell what it was? I lay still a moment, but the colonel
slept through it all, and I wondered at it. I knew there had been a
shot, or something, but could not bear to disturb him. At last I got up
again and went to your room to be sure you were all right, and you were
sleeping soundly still; but a breeze was beginning to blow and flap your
shade to and fro, so I drew it and went out, taking my lamp with me this
time and softly closing your door behind me. See how it all seemed to
f