“John, be quiet. You do not know the lady; she is a stranger, who came with Milly to help us,” returned his wife, trying to quiet him. “She’s found me out at last,” he repeated, his eyes still fixed upon Editha. “She’s the rich chap’s girl, whose house we—Tom Drake and I—cracked three or four years ago. She was asleep when we went into her room and stole her trinkets; but she looked so beautiful that I’ve never forgotten her face. I tried to make Tom leave her bracelets and rings, but he wouldn’t. It’s Miss Dalton, Maria, and I tell you she’s come to send me to prison.” CHAPTER XVIII JOHN LOKER’S CONFESSION The man had risen on his elbow, and was staring with the most abject fear at Editha, trembling and shivering until his teeth chattered in his head. His mind evidently was very weak—so weak that, under the influence of the sudden shock caused by seeing the young girl, he was babbling of secrets which otherwise he would never have dared to betray. His first words had caused Editha only surprise, but as he went on her heart gave a sudden, wild bound that for the moment turned her giddy and faint. She comprehended at once, when he spoke of having “cracked” her father’s house and of taking her “trinkets,” that she was in the presence of one who knew something about, and doubtless had participated in, that robbery so long ago, and for which crime Earle had so unjustly suffered. A cry of thankfulness nearly escaped her lips at this almost overwhelming knowledge. Earle would be free at last—every taint would be obliterated, and he could henceforth walk the earth as proudly as the proudest. This was the one thought that was uppermost in her mind as she waited almost breathlessly for him to say more. “You see, miss,” his wife here interfered, turning a white, anxious face to her, “he does not know what he is saying, and he is getting very much excited. If—if—I thank you—I _bless_ you for your kindness and the comfort you have brought us; but if you will please go away now while I quiet him——” “No, no, Maria, you shall not send her away!” exclaimed the sick man, growing more excited. “She shall stay now, and I’ll tell her all about it, if she’ll only promise not to send me to prison.” “No one shall send you there, John,” Mrs. Loker tried to say quietly, though Editha could see that she was very much disturbed also. The opportunity was one that must not be lost, however. She felt that the man was dying—he could not live many days; and if he knew anything that would clear Earle from dishonor, she must discover it now. She walked quickly and softly to his bedside, and, speaking very kindly, said: “Mr. Loker, do not be disturbed. I promise you that no harm shall come to you, and you shall have every comfort as long as you live, if you can prove to me that what you have just stated is true.” Her tones were so gentle, and her eyes so mild and kind, that he was instantly reassured.