“That is well, so far as it goes, but I am glad I came.” “Oh, I am very glad and very grateful!” fervently exclaimed Roma. “But how did this wretch turn up?” “Heaven knows. Come back from a long cruise, perhaps. He appeared at my office on Monday morning, inquiring for you. He was so insolent that I threatened to throw him out of the window, and should have done so, too, if he had not left.” “Mr. Merritt, do you know that none of my friends here know the base fraud that was perpetrated against me by this man?” “I suppose not, my dear. It was not a pleasant piece of news for you to tell, and no one else could have told it.” “No. But now that Hanson has come to this neighborhood, and dares to come to this house and set up a claim to me, I feel that I must tell my old friend, Dr. Shaw, and get the benefit of his advice on the social side of the case.” “I think you are right, my dear.” “And now, Mr. Merritt, can I ask another favor?” “Anything you like, Roma. I came down here to serve you.” “Then, when Dr. Shaw comes to-day, will you tell him the story of that felonious marriage, which has nearly wrecked my life?” “I will do so, my dear. It is even much better that I should tell him than that you should,” promptly replied the lawyer. This decision had scarcely been reached when the sound of wheels was again heard on the avenue. “That is Dr. Shaw now, I am sure!” exclaimed Roma, and again she anticipated the slow and solemn movements of Pompous by flying to the front door and opening it at the instant the old minister alighted from his carriage. “I hope there is no trouble, my dear,” said the kindly old man, after the first greetings had passed, and she was showing him into the drawing-room. “Yes, dear friend, there is trouble. Sit down here in this large chair; put your feet on this hassock; give me your hat and gloves. There is our mutual friend, Mr. Merritt, of Washington. He will tell you all you should know,” said Roma. The clergyman and the attorney shook hands very cordially. They were old friends. Roma left the room for a moment to put up the pastor’s hat and gloves and to release the children from their lessons and send them out to play. Then she returned to the drawing-room. And then and there, in her presence, the story of her unequaled wrongs was told by the lawyer to her old pastor, who listened with an amazed, horrified, scandalized expression. “Why, this sinner is a subject for the State prison!” “He deserves it,” assented the lawyer. “Oh, my poor Roma! My dear child!” sighed the old minister, taking her hand. Roma winced. She hated to be pitied, even by her kind-hearted pastor.