e child is well! That's
good! There's one long black mark eliminated from my account. But I have
not closed the book, and I am not going to, till my conscience has
nothing more to regret. It is not enough that the child is handed over
to a different life; the fortunes that have been bequeathed her must be
given to him who would have inherited them had this child not been taken
for a veritable Ocumpaugh."

"That raises a nice point," I said.

"But one that will drag all false things to light."

"Your action in the matter along with the rest," I suggested.

"True! but do you think I shall stop because of that?"

He did not look as if he would stop because of anything.

"Do you not think Mrs. Ocumpaugh worthy some pity? Her future is a
ghastly one, whichever way you look at it."

"She sinned," was his uncompromising reply. "The wages of sin is death."

"But such death!" I protested; "death of the heart, which is the worst
death of all."

He shrugged his shoulders, leading the way into the office.

"Let her beware!" he went on surlily. "Last month I saw my duty no
further than the exaction of this child's dismissal from the home whose
benefits she enjoyed under a false name. To-day I am led further by the
inexorable guide which prompts the anxious soul. All that was wrong must
be made good. Mr. Ocumpaugh must know on whom his affections have been
lavished. I will not yield. The woman has done wrong; and she shall
suffer for it till she rises, a redeemed soul, into a state of mind that
prefers humiliation to a continuance in a life of deception. You may
tell her what I say--that is, if you enjoy the right of conversation
with her."

The look he shot me at this was keen as hate and spite could make it. I
was glad that we were by this time in the office, and that I could avoid
his eye by a quick look about the well-remembered place. This proof of
the vindictive pursuit he had marked out for himself was no surprise to
me. I expected no less, yet it opened up difficulties which made my way,
as well as hers, look dreary in the prospect. He perceived my
despondency and smiled; then suddenly changed his tone.

"You do not ask after the little patient I have here. Come, Harry, come;
here is some one I will let you see."

The door of my old room swung open and I do not know which surprised me
most, the kindness in the rugged old voice I had never before heard
lifted in tenderness, or the look of confidence and joy on t