"Gentlemen, what is it you wish to lie to me about?" A brave little smile played about Miss Pat's lips. She stood there in the light of the candles, all in white as I had left her on the terrace of Glenarm, in her lace cap, with only a light shawl about her shoulders. I felt that the situation might yet be saved, and I was about to speak when Henry, with some wild notion of justifying himself, broke out stridently: "Yes; they meant to lie to you! They plotted against me and hounded me when I wished to see you peaceably and to make amends. They have now charged me with murder; they are ready to swear away my honor, my life. I am glad you are here that you may see for yourself how they are against me." He broke off a little grandly, as though convinced by his own words. "Yes; father speaks the truth, as Mr. Donovan can tell you!" I could have sworn that it was Rosalind who spoke; but there by Rosalind's side in the doorway stood Helen. Her head was lifted, and she faced us all with her figure tense, her eyes blazing. Rosalind drew away a little, and I saw Gillespie touch her hand. It was as though a quicker sense than sight had on the instant undeceived him; but he did not look at Rosalind; his eyes were upon the angry girl who was about to speak again. Miss Pat glanced about, and her eyes rested on me. "Larry, what were the lies you were going to tell me?" she asked, and smiled again. "They were about father; he wished to involve him in dishonor. But he shall not, he shall not!" cried Helen. "Is that true, Larry?" asked Miss Pat. "I have done the best I could," I replied evasively. Miss Pat scrutinized us all slowly as though studying our faces for the truth. Then she repeated: "_But if either of my said sons shall have teen touched by dishonor through his own act, as honor is accounted, reckoned and valued among men_--" and ceased abruptly, looking from Arthur to Henry. "What was the truth about Gillespie?" she asked. And Arthur would have spoken. I saw the word that would have saved his brother formed upon his lips. Miss Pat alone seemed unmoved; I saw her hand open and shut at her side as she controlled herself, but her face was calm and her voice was steady when she turned appealingly to the canoe-maker. "What is the truth, Arthur?" she asked quietly. "Why go into this now? Why not let bygones be bygones?"--and for a moment I thought I had checked the swift current. It was Helen I wished to save now, from herself, from the avalanche she seemed doomed to bring down upon her head. "I will hear what you have to say, Arthur," said Miss Pat; and I knew that there was no arresting the tide. I snatched out the sealed envelope and turned with it to Arthur Holbrook; and he took it into his hands and turned it over quietly, though his hands trembled. "Tell me the truth, gentlemen!"--and Miss Pat's voice thrilled now with anger.