e only trouble is that on one subject he is a crank."

"Oh, Reginald, do you mean it! I thought he was splendid. And what a
wonderful face he has!"

Reginald started. "Hah! Am I to be jealous of my old friend? But I might
have known," he added sadly, "no one could care long for such a wreck as
I!"

The girl wife put her arms around his neck and kissed him softly, "You
foolish boy!" she whispered, "you know I shall never love any one but
you!"

And Reginald Hawthorne counted himself a perfectly happy man.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Judge Hildreth sat in his library, alone. He had left home immediately
after dinner, ostensibly to catch the evening train for New York, and
had sent the carriage back from the station to take his family to the
Choral Festival which was the event of the year in Marlborough, and then
returning in a hired conveyance, had let himself into his house like a
thief. When we sacrifice principle upon the altar of expediency, truth
and honor, like twin victims, stand bound at its foot. He wanted to be
undisturbed, to have time to think, and God granted his wish, until his
reeling brain prayed for oblivion!

No sound broke the stillness. With the exception of the servants in a
distant part of the house, he was absolutely alone.

He drew out his will from a secret drawer of his desk and looked it over
with a ghastly smile. "To my dear niece, Evadne, the sum of thirty
thousand dollars, held by me in trust from her father." Then came a long
list of charities. It read well. People could not say he had left all
to his family and forgotten the Lord. If his executors should find a
difficulty in realizing one quarter of the values so speciously set
forth, they could only say that dividends had shrunk and investments
proved unreliable. It was not his fault. He had meant well. Besides, he
had no thought of dying for years. There was plenty of time for skillful
financing. Other men had done the same and prospered. Why should not he?

But the letters must be destroyed. He had come to a decision at last. It
was an imperative necessity. His hesitancy had been only the foolish
scruples of an over sensitive conscience. The tremendous pressure of the
age made things permissible. He was "torn by the tooth of circumstance"
and "necessity knows no law." So he entrenched himself behind a
breastwork of sophisms. Long familiarity with the suggestions of evil
had bred a contempt for the good!

He stretched out his hand t