end was tragic--lived a good and
honorable life. It would be awful for Cynthia if she believed her father
to be a wicked man!"

Hubert turned away his face. It was terrible to him to hear her speak
thus. It seemed to him that, whenever an impulse came upon him to speak
the truth, she herself made the truth appear unspeakable. Better perhaps
to leave the matter where it stood. It was a mere question of
transferring a burden from Cynthia's strong to Enid's feeble shoulders.

"Whether Westwood was really innocent or guilty," he said, with an
effort, "is not for us to decide--now."

"No; and therefore we must do our best for Cynthia and for ourselves,"
said Enid, with sudden resolution. "I did not know before that there was
even a doubt about his guilt; but, if so, our way is all the clearer,
Hubert. You are not hesitating because you do not want to marry a
convict's daughter, are you?"

"Not at all."

"Then it is because you are afraid that we--that I perhaps--shall be
hurt? I know that Flossy and the General feel strongly on the point.
But, Hubert, I absolve you--I give you leave. In my father's name I
speak; for I am sure that in another world where all things are known
he sees as I do--that the innocent must not be punished for the guilty.
If you love Cynthia, Hubert, marry her; and I will give you my best
wishes for your happiness. I am sure that it should be so--else why
should God have permitted you to love each other?"

"Enid, you are an angel!" cried Hubert.

He seized her hand and pressed it to his lips. She felt tears hot upon
her fingers, and knew that they came from his eyes. She bent down and
kissed his forehead.

"God bless you dear!" she said. "I am so happy myself that I cannot bear
you and Cynthia to be unhappy. Will you tell her when she comes in that
I want you to marry her as soon as possible? She is so good, so noble,
that I am sure you will be happy with her. And you can go abroad
together if you are married soon. Good-bye Hubert! We shall always think
of each other lovingly, shall we not?"

"I shall think of you--gratefully," he said, with his face bowed down
upon his hands--"as of an angel from heaven!"

"Oh, no--only as a poor, weak, erring little girl, who broke her word to
you and had far more happiness than she deserved. And now good-bye."

He would have detained her--perhaps to say more words of
gratitude--perhaps to say something else; but she withdrew herself from
his clasping h