ead to the murmured prayers and
solemn ministration of the kindly priest. Such later services as
Margaret could render to the bereaved woman were not to be wanting.

At the foot of the stairs Richard Shackford halted abruptly, and,
oblivious of the two children who were softly chattering together in
the doorway, caught Margaret's hand in his.

"Margaret, Torrini has made a confession that sets at rest all
question of my cousin's death."

"Do you mean that he"--Margaret faltered, and left the sentence
unfinished.

"No; it was William Durgin, God forgive him!"

"William Durgin!" The young girl's fingers closed nervously on
Richard's as she echoed the name, and she began trembling.
"That--that is stranger yet!"

"I will tell you everything when we get home; this is no time or
place; but one thing I must ask you now and here. When you sat with
me last night were you aware that Mr. Taggett firmly believed it was
I who had killed Lemuel Shackford?"

"Yes," said Margaret.

"That is all I care to know!" cried Richard; "that consoles me!"
and the two pairs of great inquisitive eyes looking up from the stone
step saw the signorina standing quite mute and colorless with the
strange gentleman's arms around her. And the signorina was smiling!

XXVIII

One June Morning, precisely a year from that morning when the
reader first saw the daylight breaking upon Stillwater, several
workmen with ladders and hammers were putting up a freshly painted
sign over the gate of the marble yard. Mr. Slocum and Richard stood
on the opposite curbstone, to which they had retired in order to take
in the general effect. The new sign read,--Slocum & Shackford.
Richard protested against the displacement of its weather-stained
predecessor; it seemed to him an act little short of vandalism; but
Mr. Slocum was obstinate, and would have it done. He was secretly
atoning for a deep injustice, into which Richard had been at once too
sensitive and too wise closely to inquire. If Mr. Slocum had harbored
a temporary doubt of him Richard did not care to know it; it was
quite enough to suspect the fact. His sufficient recompense was that
Margaret had not doubted. They had now been married six months. The
shadow of the tragedy in Welch's Court had long ceased to oppress
them; it had vanished with the hasty departure of Mr. Taggett.
Neither he nor William Durgin was ever seen again in the flesh in
Stillwater; but they both still led, and will proba