earful
retribution.

Of course the hermit was released from custody, and there was not a
person in the village who did not acquit him of all wrong except Mrs.
Scott, who could not forgive him for proving her suspicions groundless.

"You may say what you will," she said perversely, "I know the man's a
burglar, or a murderer, or something else bad."

"He couldn't have murdered John Trafton, for we traced the murderer's
steps on the beach. There is no doubt it was that stranger we saw in the
barroom."

So said her husband.

"I don't care whether he murdered John Trafton or not," said Mrs. Scott.
"I'm sure he's murdered somebody, and I'm ready to take my Bible oath of
it."

"What makes you so prejudiced against the poor man? He hasn't done you
any harm, Mrs. Scott."

"I don't like the airs he puts on. He looks at you jest as if you were
dust beneath his feet. What right has he to look down upon honest
people, I want to know?"

But Mrs. Scott did not succeed in creating a prejudice against the
hermit, whose courageous and dignified bearing had impressed all who
observed his manner in this trying crisis.

When the funeral was over the hermit called in the evening upon the
widow of John Trafton. It was the first he had ever made upon any of his
neighbors and it excited surprise.

Robert brought forward the rocking-chair and invited the visitor
cordially to sit down.

"Mrs. Trafton," said the hermit, "I want to thank you and Robert for the
confidence you showed in me at a time when all others suspected me of a
terrible deed. You were the ones most affected, yet you acquitted me in
your hearts."

"Just for a moment I suspected you when I saw you standing by the dead
body of my uncle," said Robert, "but it was only for a moment."

"I respect you for your fearless candor, my boy. You were justified in
your momentary suspicion."

"I am ashamed of it. You had been such a kind friend."

"It was only natural. And now, my friends, what are your plans? How will
you be able to maintain yourselves?"

"I don't think it will make much difference," began Robert
hesitatingly.

"My husband did very little for our support," said Mrs. Trafton. "Not
more, certainly, than his own food amounted to. You know, sir, I think
Robert must have told you the unfortunate habits of my poor husband. He
was enslaved by drink, and he spent nearly all he earned in the
barroom."

"Yes, I knew what your husband's habits were," said the he