etter than the life of a newspaper-man in
London any day."

Cynthia did not answer. Her face wore a look of settled misery which
made Westwood uncomfortable. He went on doggedly.

"When he gets better, I think I shall go and see him about this. I've no
mind to see my girl break her heart before my eyes. You know you're fond
of him. Why make such a mystery of it? Marry him, and make him sorry for
his misdeeds afterwards. That's my advice."

Cynthia's hands began to tremble in her lap. She said nothing however,
and Westwood did not pursue the subject. But a few days later she asked
him a question which showed what was weighing on her mind.

"Father, what do you think about forgiveness? We ought to forgive those
that have injured us, I suppose? They always said so at St.
Elizabeth's."

"Up to a certain point, I think, my girl. It's no good forgiving them
that are not sorry for what they've done. It would go to my heart not to
punish a rascal that robbed me and laughed in my face afterwards, you
know. But, if I've reason to think that he's repented and tried to make
amends, why, then, I think a man's a fool who doesn't say, 'All right,
old fellow--try again and good luck to you!'"

"Make amends! Ah, that is the test!" said Cynthia, in a very low voice.

"Well, it is and it isn't," said her father sturdily. "Making amends is
a very difficult matter sometimes. The best way sometimes is to put all
that's been bad behind you, and start again fresh without meddling with
the old affairs. Of course it's pretty hard to tell whether a man's
repentant or whether he is not."

He knew very well that she was thinking of Hubert Lepel, and was
therefore all the more cautious and all the more gentle in what he said.
For he had gone over to Hubert's side in the absence of any precise
knowledge as to what the quarrel had been about. "A woman's sure to be
in the wrong!" he said to himself--hence his advice.

"But, if one is sure--quite sure--that a man repents," said Cynthia
falteringly, "or, at least, that he is sorry, and if the wrong is not so
much to oneself, but to somebody else that is dear to one, then----"

"If you care enough to worry about the man, forgive him, and have done
with it!" said her father. "Now look here, Cynthy--let's have no beating
about the bush! I think I know pretty well what's happening. Mr. Lepel
knows something about that murder business--I am pretty sure of that.
You think, rightly or wrongly, that h