left to grieve for her as well as for
yourself."

"But what is my duty? Ah, what is my duty in this supreme trial? I can
not save my life or hers from utter wreck, but I can do my duty, and I
will do it, if only it is pointed out to me. Oh, sir, point it out to
me!" cried the hypocrite, clasping her hands with a look of sincerity
that might have deceived a London detective.

"My dear, can you possibly be in doubt as to what your duty is?"
sorrowfully inquired the minister.

"Oh, my mind is all confused by this terrible event! I can not judge
rationally. Ought I to keep silence and go away to some remote place and
live in obscurity, dead to the world, so as never even by chance to
interfere with their happiness, or to bring trouble on Miss Cavendish? I
think, perhaps, he expects even that much from my devotion to him. Or
ought I not to make way with myself altogether, for her sake? Would not
a courageous suicide be justifiable, and even meritorious, under such,
trying circumstances?"

"My child--my child, how wildly and sinfully you talk! Your brain is
certainly touched by your troubles. You must not dream of doing any of
the dreadful things you have mentioned. Your duty lies plainly before
you. Will you have the courage to do it, if I point it out to you?"

"Oh, yes, I will--I will! It is all that is left me to do."

"Then your duty is to lodge information against that wretched man, so
that he shall be arrested the moment he sets foot in the State."

"Oh, heaven of heavens! And ruin Emma Cavendish!" exclaimed the
traitress, in well-simulated horror.

"And save Emma Cavendish from a life of involuntary degradation and
misery. You must do this. To-morrow I will introduce you to a young
lawyer of distinguished ability, who will give you legal advice even as
I have given you religious counsel. And we will both confer together, so
as to save you as much as possible from all painful share in the
prosecution of this man."

"It is _all_ painful; all agonizing! But I think you and I will not
shrink from our duty. Oh, could you ever have believed, without such
proof as I have given you, that Mr. Alden Lytton could ever have been
guilty of this crime?"

"Never! Never! And yet I know that men of exalted character have
sometimes fallen very deeply into sin. Even David, 'the man after God's
own heart,' took the wife of his devoted friend, and betrayed this
faithful friend to a cruel death! Why should we wonder, then, at a