She was brought back to
recollection of the confession in the letter and her apprehensions as to
how it would be received, with a start, and before timidly handing her
husband the open letter, she began preparing him for its contents and
excusing the writer.

"A letter from Eddie, John, dear. He has stood splendidly in his
classes, but asks your forgiveness for having done wrong in his spare
time. He is so manly and noble in his confession, John, and in his offer
to make reparation!"

John Allan's face clouded and hardened instantly.

"What is this? Confession? Reparation?--Give me the letter!"

But she held it away from him.

"It seems he has gotten into a card-playing set who have led him away
further than he realized. Oh, don't look like that, John! He is so
young, and you know how evil association can influence the best of
boys!"

But the storm gathered fast and faster on John Allan's face.

"Card-playing? Do you mean the boy has been gambling? Give me the
letter."

She could withhold it no longer, but as he sat down to read it she threw
herself upon an ottoman at his feet and clasping his knees hid her face
against them, crying,

"Oh, John, have pity, have pity!"

But even as she sobbed out the words, she felt their futility. She knew
that there was no pity to be expected from the owner of that face of
stone, that eye of steel.

As he read, his rage became too great for the relief of an outburst. A
still, but icy calm settled upon him. For some minutes he spoke no word
and seemed unconscious of the tender creature so appealing in her
loveliness and in the humility of her attitude, beseeching at his knee.
The truth was, that much as he loved her, his contempt for what he
called her "weakness" for the son of her adoption, but added to his
harshness in judging the boy.

Presently he arose, impatiently pushing her away from him as he did so,
saying;

"Pack my bag and order an early breakfast. I'm going to take the morning
stage for the University."

It was a difficult evening for the little foster-mother. In the stately,
octagon-shaped dining-room soft lamplight was cheerily reflected by
gleaming mahogany and bright silver and china, upon which was served the
most toothsome of suppers; but the meal was almost untouched and the
mere pretense of eating was carried through in silence and gloom. In the
drawing-room, afterward, the firelight leaped saucily against shining
andirons and fender, bringing f