Reginald Hawthorne went back into the room where his wife was sitting.  “Elise, darling, you have seen one of the grandest men in the world to-night.  The only trouble is that on one subject he is a crank.”

“Oh, Reginald, do you mean it!  I thought he was splendid.  And what a wonderful face he has!”

Reginald started.  “Hah!  Am I to be jealous of my old friend?  But I might have known,” he added sadly, “no one could care long for such a wreck as I!”

The girl wife put her arms around his neck and kissed him softly, “You foolish boy!” she whispered, “you know I shall never love any one but you!”

And Reginald Hawthorne counted himself a perfectly happy man.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Judge Hildreth sat in his library, alone.  He had left home immediately after dinner, ostensibly to catch the evening train for New York, and had sent the carriage back from the station to take his family to the Choral Festival which was the event of the year in Marlborough, and then returning in a hired conveyance, had let himself into his house like a thief.  When we sacrifice principle upon the altar of expediency, truth and honor, like twin victims, stand bound at its foot.  He wanted to be undisturbed, to have time to think, and God granted his wish, until his reeling brain prayed for oblivion!

No sound broke the stillness.  With the exception of the servants in a distant part of the house, he was absolutely alone.

He drew out his will from a secret drawer of his desk and looked it over with a ghastly smile.  “To my dear niece, Evadne, the sum of thirty thousand dollars, held by me in trust from her father.”  Then came a long list of charities.  It read well.  People could not say he had left all to his family and forgotten the Lord.  If his executors should find a difficulty in realizing one quarter of the values so speciously set forth, they could only say that dividends had shrunk and investments proved unreliable.  It was not his fault.  He had meant well.  Besides, he had no thought of dying for years.  There was plenty of time for skillful financing.  Other men had done the same and prospered.  Why should not he?

But the letters must be destroyed.  He had come to a decision at last.  It was an imperative necessity.  His hesitancy had been only the foolish scruples of an over sensitive conscience.  The tremendous pressure of the age made things permissible.  He was “torn by the tooth of circumstance” and “necessity knows no law.”  So he entrenched himself behind a breastwork of sophisms.  Long familiarity with the suggestions of evil had bred a contempt for the good!

He stretched out his hand towards the drawer.  There should be no more weak delay.  If a thing were to be done, ’twere well it were done quickly.

The horror of a great fear fell upon him.  Again his hand had fallen, and this time he was powerless to lift it up!