'Upright, honest, and just!' she repeated my words in a musing tone. 'It is an enigma.' 'He would die,' I continued warmly, 'rather than be guilty of a mean action. Now that we are speaking of him in this way, I am ashamed of myself for ever thinking ill of him. Mother was right, from the very first--she was right about him, as she always is about everything. If he were not so hard----But you don't know what trials he has gone through in his life.' 'Do you?' 'I know some of them, but I am pledged not to speak of them to any one--not even to you. One thing happened to him--never hint, for my sake, Jessie, that you even suspect it--one thing happened to him so terrible and so dreadful that it is no wonder he is hard and cold and morose. Many and many a time mother has entreated me to be kind and charitable in my thoughts towards him, and instead of doing so I have repaid all his kindness by the basest of ingratitude.' 'How have you done that, Chris?' 'By saying anything to you to cause you to dislike him. Ah, you may shake your head, but it is so, Jessie. If he were in my place, and I in his, he would come to me and ask me to forgive him; but I haven't the courage and fearless heart that he has, and I shouldn't know how to do it without giving him pain.' I was really very remorseful, and sincerely so; but Jessie said nothing to comfort me. 'Have I had no reason of my own, until the last few days, to dislike him? Has he behaved quite kindly to me? Chris, is it possible that I am wrong in nearly everything that I have done? How many times have I tried to conciliate him, and how many times has he answered me with unkind words! There is some reason for it--there is some reason for it.' 'And yet remember, Jessie,' I said, without thinking, 'that he has given you a home, as he gave one to us, never asking for a return--never expecting one.' Her face turned scarlet. 'Would _he_ have said that?' she asked, and left me without another word. CHAPTER XXVII. THE STORM BREAKS. Jessie's moods were sufficiently variable and perplexing to cause me serious uneasiness, but I had no suspicion of what was in her mind when she spoke of uncle Bryan and his religious opinions, or I should have used my strongest efforts to avert the storm. Even when she made her first open move, which she did on the evening of the same day on which we had the conversation just recorded, I did not suspect her; truth to tell, my mind at that time was almost completely occupied by one theme--the locket which Jessie had given me, and its significance. As a charm, it was most potent in its power of bringing happiness to the wearer; I felt that while this locket was in my possession, it would be impossible for a cloud to shadow my life. But clouds came all too quickly. We were sitting together in the evening, in the most amicable of moods. Suddenly Jessie addressed uncle Bryan. 'Uncle Bryan, who teaches the young?' He looked inquiringly at her.