She clasped him in her loving arms, crying, "I am not ashamed of it; I am proud of it, and of you, my dear, dear husband! If there is a stain upon our name you shall wipe it away; you shall make it bright and clean and pure, and men and women shall say, 'The son has atoned for his father's faults, and stands before the world an honourable gentleman who has met misfortune bravely, and silenced the slanderers who dared to breathe a word against him.' Oh, my dear, my dear! I never loved you as I love you now, I never honoured you as I honour you now. Mother, father, stand by us--comfort him, strengthen him!" She glowed with heavenly pity, with indignant pride, with devoted love. The type of a true, brave, honest English girl, she stood embracing the man whose heart, whose life, were linked with hers, ready to defend him, to suffer for him, to fling back the words of scorn flung at him--if need were, to die for him. It is beneath the stress of a heavy stroke of misfortune that men and women such as she show their noblest qualities. A great peace stole into Reginald's heart; the sobs in his throat died away. "I will try to prove myself worthy of you," he said huskily. "I pray to God that I may live to prove it." Aunt Rob's heart throbbed with exultation. "Our daughter, father, that I nursed at my breast," she murmured to her husband. "God love and preserve her!" "Amen!" he answered. So in that humble home those sweet flowers bloomed in the midst of the darkness, and through the lowering clouds one bright star shone--the star of love and hope and mutual faith. When the excitement had subsided, and they were all seated again, Uncle Rob said, "Let it be as you have decided, Reginald, my lad. As an inspector of police I might argue with you; as a man and a father I agree with you. And in the nick of time, here comes Dick." To Dick, with his cheerful face and voice, that bore no traces of his night's anxious vigil, all was explained. He shook hands with Reginald, and said, "A good move. I'll go a step farther. Let there be two bills put out and posted all over England, one offering a reward for the discovery of the murderer, the other for giving such information of Abel Death as will lead to his being found. You can tell us, perhaps, Uncle Rob--would that be against the law?" "I don't think the law can touch it," he replied. "It might not be approved of in some quarters, but the law don't apply, so far as I know anything of it." "If the law," said Aunt Rob, with fine disdain, "can prevent a son from offering a reward for the discovery of his father's murderer the less we have of it the better. Why, instead of one man looking for the monster, there 'll be a hundred! Dick, you must see to the printing of the bills, and they should be got out at once."