“Kleber and Myra,” he said, “it was not many years ago that I stood before you in this house in the presence of almost the same neighbours who are here now, and I joined your hands in wedlock. I have watched with sorrow and disappointment the wretched troubles that have come into your home life--needless troubles, foolish troubles. This is not a time for a sermon. But it is a time for a friend to speak a word to you. I could have said much to you before, but I refrained, for I realised that your hearts were stubborn and froward, never having been touched by the softness of true love and forbearance. It is the cruel and chastening hand of trouble that does it now. I believe that now your home and your hearts are swept clean of the anger and pride and selfishness and the little vices that ruin homes. I believe that you are now willing to shoulder together the awful burden that has been placed upon you.” The woman’s face grew white, and she swayed into her husband’s arms. Willard stood gasping for his breath. “I married your bodies once before, Kleber and Myra. To-night I am going to marry your hearts and your souls, for, God pity you both, you cannot stand alone and bear this horror.” The people in the kitchen were too raptly engaged to hear the outside door open. The Squire stood in the shadow near it, and a soft “Hist!” engaged his attention. Hiram’s head was thrust through the opening. He was bareheaded, his clothing was in shreds, and the lamplight shed feeble gleams on a hideous black and blue circle around his sound eye. When the Squire advanced on tiptoe Hiram seized his arm, pulled him outside and, softly as he had opened it, he closed the door. “I’ve got ’em,” he whispered excitedly. “It was a God-awful trip, Phin, but I got ’em! It was old Hime for ’em!” “You saved them!” gasped his brother. “Sounder’n nuts. But there wa’n’t no time to spare. Old Judge flat on his back in the dory and them two little children huddled down side of him squealin’ for him to wake up! Heard ’em above the roar of the wind, Phin! I guess it was God’s way of leadin’ me to ’em. I’ve got ’em waitin’ ’round the corner of the house here. When the old Judge come to the second time he was right as a trivet. Didn’t have no idee how he happened to be out in that dory. Kind o’ dreamed he was runnin’ away from a devil or somethin’ and savin’ the children--and I don’t blame him for thinkin’ it was the devil, for that Klebe----” “Hush, brother,” said the Squire gently; “there have been strange heart-stirrings about here to-day.”