med horrible. He could have
trampled to death such offenders with deliberate fury, yet this
vengeance but more surely would crush Esther's hopes. For her sake he
must be patient. Time, property, and every available means will find
employment in her vindication. There shall be permitted no maudlin
sentiment of pity in this undertaking. Certain retribution shall be
whetted by each delay.

This former impersonation of complacent optimism, acquiescing in all
human experiences as special essentials of the infinite plan, shrinks
from such crucial test. This is surely a noted exception. A daughter's
tender heartstrings are too sensitive for such stoic touch.

Sir Donald chafes at slow processes of retributive justice. How tardy
the infinitesimal grind! Would that the wheels speed their lagging
momentum!

The former Sir Donald Randolph is changed. His old philosophical,
speculative, idealistic bent is as completely in abeyance as though
stricken with rudimentary palsy. In their stead is an alert, untiring,
relentless Nemesis, more pitiless because of intense, novel zeal.

But Sir Donald is handicapped. Not that time or money is lacking. These
are available. What about Esther? Her comment upon the absence of Oswald
and Alice that night had been painfully distinct. The unmistaken, mute
language of her eyes and quivering lips was clearer. Her pretty,
persistent dissembling was confirmation. Subsequent suspicious
innuendoes had aggravated her feelings. He asks himself: "Shall I
neglect this troubled child to engage in ferreting out crime? Why should
Esther's sorrows merit her father's neglect?"

Seeing a picture of justice blinded, he exclaims: "What mocking irony in
judicial pose of blind goddess poising nicely adjusted balance, whose
crude, arbitrary registers reckon not of vicarious pain!"

Sir Donald's first duty is at home. Justice can find agents more expert
than he, but its ministry is too coarse for the subtle sentiments of the
fireside.

Sir Donald and Esther returned to Northfield.

Though taking her father into many little girlish confidences, Esther
had not told him of her life's mission or of Oswald's proposal. She
still remained silent. Both subjects were painful. Her father's worries
should not be increased.

Esther sees no way to begin her chosen work. Recent troubles cloud her
vision. She shrinks from the notoriety. That which was once grand
charity and self-sacrifice is now crafty, hypocritical show.