She faced her duty bravely. She had full confidence in the honour and justice of her husband, and her confidence was not misplaced. Suffering most deeply himself, he pitied her for the suffering she experienced in being the innocent cause of what could not fail to be a life-long separation between himself and his son. "You have done your duty," he said, "and I will do mine. I am not only your husband and lover; I am your protector." He called his son to him and they were closeted together for hours. What passed between them, the wife never knew. Upon that subject husband and wife maintained perfect silence. At the end of the interview Frederick Holdfast left his father's house, never to return. The echo of the banished son's footsteps still lingered in Lydia Holdfast's ears when her husband called her into his study. His pale face showed traces of deep suffering. Upon the writing table was a small Bible, with silver clasps. "Lydia," said Mr. Holdfast, "this Bible was given to me by my first wife. Two children she bore me--first, the man who has but now left my house, and will not enter it again; then a girl, who died before she could prattle. It were better that my son had so died, but it was otherwise willed. In this Bible I wrote the record of my first marriage--my own name, the maiden name of my wife, the church in which we were married, and the date. It is here; and beneath it the record of my marriage with you. Upon a separate page I wrote the date of the birth of my son Frederick; beneath it, that of my second child, Alice, dead. That page is no longer in the sacred Book. I have torn it out and destroyed it; and as from this Bible I tore the record of my son's birth, so from my life I have torn and destroyed his existence. He lives no longer for me. I have now no child; I have only you!" He paused awhile, and continued. "It is I, it seems," he said, pathetically, "who have to turn over a new leaf. With the exception of yourself--my first consideration--there is but one engrossing subject in my mind; the honour of my name. I must watch carefully that it is not dragged in the mud. From such a man as my son has grown into--heaven knows by what means, for neither from myself nor from his mother can he have inherited his base qualities--I am not safe for a moment. Between to-day and the past, let there be a door fast closed, which neither you nor I will ever attempt to open." Then this man, whose nature must have been very noble, kissed his young wife, and asked that she would not disturb him for the remainder of the day. "Only one person," he said, "is to be admitted to see me--my lawyer." In the course of the afternoon that gentleman presented himself, and did not leave until late in the night. His business is explained by the date of a codicil to Mr. Holdfast's will, whereby the son is disinherited, and Mr. Holdfast's entire fortune--amounting to not less than one hundred thousand pounds--is left unreservedly to his wife.