"he's downstairs--in the store."

"Ask him to come up," said Wetherell, sinking back again, "ask him to
come up."

Cynthia, as she stood in the passage, was of two minds about it. She
was thoroughly frightened, and went first to the garden to ask Jethro's
advice. But Jethro, so Milly Skinner said, had gone off half an hour
before, and did not know that Mr. Merrill had arrived. Cynthia went back
again to her father.

"Where's Mr. Merrill?" asked Wetherell.

"Dad, do you think you ought to see him? He--he might excite you."

"I insist upon seeing him, Cynthia."

William Wetherell had never said anything like that before. But Cynthia
obeyed him, and presently led Mr. Merrill into the room. The kindly
little railroad president was very serious now. The wasted face of the
storekeeper, enhanced as it was by the beard, gave Mr. Merrill such a
shock that he could not speak for a few moments--he who rarely lacked
for cheering words on any occasion. A lump rose in his throat as he went
over and stood by the chair and took the sick man's hand.

"I am glad you came, Mr. Merrill," said Wetherell, simply, "I wanted to
speak to you. Cynthia, will you leave us alone for a few minutes?"

Cynthia went, troubled and perplexed, wondering at the change in him. He
had had something on his mind--now she was sure of it--something which
Mr. Merrill might be able to relieve.

It was Mr. Merrill who spoke first when she was gone.

"I was coming up to Brampton," he said, "and Tom Collins, who drives the
Truro coach, told me you were sick. I had not heard of it."

Mr. Merrill, too, had something on his mind, and did not quite know how
to go on. There was in William Wetherell, as he sat in the chair with
his eyes fixed on his visitor's face, a dignity which Mr. Merrill had
not seen before--had not thought the man might possess.

"I was coming to see you, anyway," Mr. Merrill said.

"I did you a wrong--though as God judges me, I did not think of it at
the time. It was not until Alexander Duncan spoke to me last week that I
thought of it at all."

"Yes," said Wetherell.

"You see," continued Mr. Merrill wiping his brow, for he found the
matter even more difficult than he had imagined, "it was not until
Duncan told me how you had acted in his library that I guessed the
truth--that I remembered myself how you had acted. I knew that you were
not mixed up in politics, but I also knew that you were an intimate
friend of Jethro's, and I t