Old Chester thought the one thing. No evasions of Dr. Lavendar's, no miserable silence on the part of the disgraced father and the infuriated brother, could banish that one thought. But nothing definite was known. "Although," as everybody said to everybody else, "of course, Dr. Lavendar knows the whole thing, and probably Willy King does, too." If they did, they kept their knowledge to themselves. But Dr. Lavendar went often to the Gordon house that winter. "They're pretty lonely, those two men," he told Willy once--perhaps six months afterwards. "Would either of them have softened if the baby had lived, do you think, sir?" William said. And Dr. Lavendar shook his head. "Perhaps her father might. But Alex will never forgive her, I'm afraid." And Alex never did forgive her--not even when she died, as, happily, she did six or seven years later. She died; and life closed over the miserable little tragedy as water closes, rippling, over some poor, broken thing flung into its depths. "_Thank God!_" Alex said, when he heard she was gone. "You may thank God for her," Dr. Lavendar said, turning upon him sternly, "but ask mercy for yourself, because this door of opportunity is shut upon you forever." Dr. Lavendar had brought them the news. They did not ask how it had come to him; it was enough to hear it. The two men, Mary's father and brother, listened while he told them, briefly: "She died yesterday. The funeral will be to-morrow, at twelve." "Thank God!" Alex said, hoarsely, and lifted his hand and cursed the man who had dishonored them. And Dr. Lavendar turned upon him in solemn anger. "Your opportunity is gone--so far as she is concerned. There yet remains, however, the poor, foolish sinner whom she loved--" "Damn him!" said Alex. "_--and who loved her._" Old Mr. Gordon dropped his face in his hands and groaned. "Who loved her," Dr. Lavendar repeated. "For that, at least, he cannot be indifferent to us, whatever he has made us suffer." Neither of his listeners spoke. It was growing dark in the long room, walled to the ceiling with books and lighted only by a fire sputtering in the grate. Mr. Gordon, sitting in his big, winged chair close to the hearth, said, after a long pause: "You said--to-morrow, Edward? Where?" "In Mercer. I shall go up on the morning stage." Again the silence fell. Alex got up and walked to the window and looked out. "Why didn't you bring Danny in, Dr. Lavendar?" he said, carelessly; "the little brute will freeze out there in your buggy. I'll call him in." He turned to leave the room, and then stopped. "Alexander, _sit down_," said Dr. Lavendar.