“Why, Mr. Brant, you fairly startled me! I heard you at the door and thought it was Mr. Crosswell. How do you do? and where have you been all these weeks?” Brant went dizzy with mingled joy and self-reproach. Then it was a hideous mistake, after all, and Mrs. Langford had kept her own counsel. It was almost beyond belief, and he stammered helplessly in his acknowledgments: “I--I haven’t been anywhere--that is, I’ve been here--no, not just here, either----” Dorothy’s laugh rang sweet and joyous, and it outran her words in restoring his self-possession. “It’s the atmosphere of the place, you know,” she said archly. “People come here to confess their sins, and polite excuses are not allowed. Have you come to confession, Mr. Brant?” Her jesting question went near enough to the truth to make him wince. “Ye--yes; something of that sort. I came to have a little talk with Mr.--Mr.----” “Crosswell?” she suggested. “So did I. Won’t you sit down and wait for him? He will be in before very long, I think.” Brant did as he was bidden, and thus having the opportunity for free speech which he would have been willing to buy at a price, went dumb and could do no more than tie idle knots in his watch chain. Dorothy read the questions in his eyes, but she mistook their pointing, and wondered how she could help matters along without betraying Isabel. Much to her relief, he opened the way by breaking ground in the direction of things serious. “The last time we met you were in trouble,” he began. “I hope the cause has been removed.” “It has,” she assented; “and--and I have wanted so much to thank you. It was very, very good of you to help us.” “Please don’t mention it; any one would have done as much under the circumstances,” he protested, adding, “and that without the hope of reward.” She knew what he meant, or thought she did, and steeled herself to lead him on. “I think we all expect rewards of some kind for our good deeds, and we usually get them, don’t we?” “Rather oftener than we deserve, I think. But I missed mine.” Dorothy had prayed for this opportunity, and for strength to improve it, but she had to turn away from him before she could go on. “Sometimes we think we have lost things when we have only overlooked them,” she ventured; then, brushing aside the figure of speech, she went straight to the heart of the matter. “Mr. Brant, why don’t you come to see us any more?” From the personal point of view it was the cruelest of questions, but she was determined to secure her own safety and Isabel’s happiness by forcing his confidence, and she knew no better way to do this. Nevertheless, she was wholly unprepared for his reply. “For the best of reasons, Miss Langford: I have been forbidden the house.” It seemed incredible that he should put such a harsh construction upon Isabel’s refusal, and Dorothy was bewildered. “But I don’t understand,” she began. “Surely----” “One moment, please. Do you believe in repentance?”