He averted his eyes; her struggle hurt him deeply. Now and then he saw her as she used to be; little reminders of her youth, her early beauty, her gayety, crept through the change in her. His own vision was dimmed with tears. After a while she grew more calm, and began to gather up her belongings, her gloves, her purse, the boa that had slipped from her shoulders, with those little familiar gestures that are a part of a woman’s individuality, and yet all women share them. She was gathering up the mantle of her worldliness, putting on the worn mask of conventionality. “I am going,” she said, in a low voice that thrilled with feeling, “I shall never see you again. Will you forgive me, David? I sinned and--I have suffered, I am suffering still.” With an effort the old man rose and held out his hand. In the gesture was all the stately courtesy of his race and his traditions. “I forgave you long ago,” he said. She took his hand a moment, looked into his face, and read there the death warrant of every hope she had that the trouble might be bridged, her daughter come back to her. Her lips quivered and her shoulders rose and fell with her quick breathing. “Thank you,” she said, and passed slowly down the room to the door. A log fell on the hearth, and the blaze, shooting up a tongue of flame, illumined the colonel’s gaunt figure and whitened his face. At the door Letitia turned and looked her last upon the man she had wronged, who had forgiven her and yet, through the love of his daughter, had so deeply smitten her. She went out weeping and alone. XXXII THREE weeks later Judge Hollis found Caleb able to walk about the library. The wound had healed, but the fever and the struggle for life had told. His tall figure was more gaunt than ever, and there were deep hollows in his cheeks. He had prevailed with Judge Hollis to get the case against Zeb Bartlett dismissed; the boy was half an idiot, and the story of Jacob Eaton’s pistol and the money that Jacob had given him before he fled, were too choice bits to get into the newspapers. Dr. Cheyney had put down the scandal which made Zeb’s shot a revenge for Jean, and there was an effort now to make things easy for poor Jinny Eaton, who had gone to relatives in Virginia, still bewailing Jacob and the influx of anarchists, which seemed to her to be the real root of the trouble, as these incendiaries must have stirred up the investigation which had wrecked Jacob before he had time to recover his investments. For years she spoke of these alien influences which must be responsible even for the fluctuations on Wall Street. Meanwhile, Jacob had escaped to South America, and was heard of later as a financier in Buenos Ayres. Judge Hollis announced his escape to Caleb. “Got off with a cool million, I reckon,” said the judge grimly; “by the Lord Harry, I wish I could have laid him by the heels.”