ce of God rebuking us for years of
deception, or just the malice of man seeking to rob us of our one best
treasure, a mother's untarnished name!"

"Mr. Gryce acts from no malice--" I began, but I saw they were not
listening.

"Have they finished down below?" asked Lucetta.

"Does the man you call Gryce seem satisfied?" asked Loreen.

I drew myself up physically and mentally. My second task was about to
begin.

"I do not understand those men," said I. "They seem to want to look
farther than the sacred spot where we left them. If they are going
through a form, they are doing it very thoroughly."

"That is their duty," observed Loreen, but Lucetta took it less calmly.

"It is an unhappy day for us!" cried she. "Shame after shame, disgrace
upon disgrace! I wish we had all died in our childhood. Loreen, I must
see William. He will be doing some foolish thing, swearing or----"

"My dear, let me go to William," I urgently put in. "He may not like me
overmuch, but I will at least prove a restraint to him. You are too
feeble. See, you ought to be lying on the couch instead of trying to
drag yourself out to the stables."

And indeed at that moment Lucetta's strength gave suddenly out, and she
sank into Loreen's arms insensible.

When she was restored, I hurried away to the stables, still in pursuit
of the task which I had not yet completed. I found William sitting
doggedly on a stool in the open doorway, grunting out short sentences to
the two men who lounged in his vicinity on either side. He was angry,
but not as angry as I had seen him many times before. The men were
townsfolk and listened eagerly to his broken sentences. One or two of
these reached my ears.

"Let 'em go it. It won't be now or to-day they'll settle this business.
It's the devil's work, and devils are sly. My house won't give up that
secret, or any other house they'll be likely to visit. The place I
would ransack--But Loreen would say I was babbling. Goodness knows a
fellow's got to talk about something when his fellow-townsfolk come to
see him." And here his laugh broke in, harsh, cruel, and insulting. I
felt it did him no good, and made haste to show myself.

Immediately his whole appearance changed. He was so astonished to see me
there that for a moment he was absolutely silent; then he broke out
again into another loud guffaw, but this time in a different tone.

"Why, it's Miss Butterworth," he laughed. "Here, Saracen! Come, pay your
respect