It was that evening, and Barrington had departed suddenly on business to Winnipeg, when Dane rode up to the Grange.  He asked for Miss Barrington and her niece, and when he heard that his comrade was recovering sensibility, sat down looking very grave.

“I have something to tell you, but Courthorne must not know until he is better, while I’m not sure that we need tell him then,” he said.  “In the meanwhile, I am also inclined to fancy it would be better kept from Colonel Barrington on his return.  It is the first time anything of the kind has happened at Silverdale, and it would hurt him horribly, which decided us to come first to you.”

“You must be more concise,” said Miss Barrington; quietly, and Dane trifled with the hat in his hand.

“It is,” he said, “a most unpleasant thing, and is known to three men only, of whom I am one.  We have also arranged that nobody else will chance upon what we have discovered.  You see, Ferris is unfortunately connected with you, and his people have had trouble enough already.”

“Ferris?” said Maud Barrington, with a sudden hardening of her face.  “You surely don’t mean—­”

Dane nodded.  “Yes,” he said reluctantly.  “I’m afraid I do.  Now, if you will listen to me for a minute or two.”

He told his story with a grim, convincing quietness, and the blood crept into the girl’s cheeks as she followed his discoveries step by step.  Glancing at her aunt, she saw that there was horror as well as belief in the gentle lady’s face.

“Then,” she said, with cold incisiveness, “Ferris cannot stay here, and he shall be punished.”

“No,” said Dane.  “We have no room for a lad of his disposition at Silverdale—­but I’m very uncertain in regard to the rest.  You see, it couldn’t be done without attracting attention—­and I have the honor of knowing his mother.  You will remember how she lost another son.  That is why I did not tell Colonel Barrington.  He is a trifle—­precipitate—­occasionally.”

Miss Barrington glanced at him gratefully.  “You have done wisely,” she said.  “Ethel Ferris has borne enough, and she has never been the same since the horrible night they brought Frank home, for she knew how he came by his death, though the coroner brought it in misadventure.  I also fancy my brother would be implacable in a case like this, though how far I am warranted in keeping the facts from him I do not know.”

Dane nodded gravely.  “We leave that to you.  You will, however, remember what happened once before.  We cannot go through what we did then again.”

Miss Barrington recalled the formal court-martial that had once been held in the hall of the Grange, when every man in the settlement had been summoned to attend, for there were offenses in regard to which her brother was inflexible.  When it was over and the disgraced man went forth an outcast, a full account of the proceedings had been forwarded to those at home who had hoped for much from him.