"Amy listen. On the soul that has been pardoned in the name of Jesus Christ, there is no spot. Won't you put your past beneath your feet as I put mine in the dust, and come to me upon the common ground of Christ's love and forgiveness? Come, because we love each other, and for the good we can do." The brown eyes filled with tears again; the sweet lips trembled, as holding out her hand she replied, "Oh Dick, I do love you. Help me to be strong and true and worthy of your love. I--I--have no one in all the world but you." A few minutes later, Dick said, "I must take you home now." "No, no," she answered, hurriedly; "the folks will think that I am calling on some of the neighbors, even if they miss me at all. I often run out of an evening that way. It is not late and I'm not afraid." "Listen to me, dearest," he answered. "You must not see your father alone until I have told him everything. I will go up to the house with you now, and we will settle this matter once for--" A loud knock at the door interrupted him. Amy trembled in alarm. "Don't be frightened dear. No harm can come to you from this visit now. Thank God you have given me the right to speak for you." The knock was repeated. "Step in here," he said, leading her to a chair in the next room, "and be a brave girl now. It's just some fellow on business. He'll be gone in a moment." And leaving her with the door partly closed, he stepped across the room just as the knock came the third time. Dick threw open the door, and without waiting for an invitation, Adam Goodrich stepped across the threshold. To say that Dick was astonished but faintly expressed his feelings, though not a muscle of his face quivered, as he said: "Good evening, sir, what can I do for you?" "You can do a good deal," said Adam. "But first lock that door; we want no visitors here to-night." Without a word, Dick turned the key again. "Now sir, I want to know first, is it true that you were with my daughter in the Ozark Mountains this summer? Don't try to lie to me this time. I'll have the truth or kill you." "I have never lied to you, sir," answered Dick; "and have no desire to do so now. It is perfectly true I did meet you daughter last summer while on my vacation." "I knew I was right," raved Adam. "I knew you led her away from home. Oh, why did you ever come to this city? Why did I ever see you? Here." And he frantically tore a check-book from his pocket. "Fill this out for any amount you choose and go away again. Oh, I could kill you if I dared. You have ruined me forever--you--" "Stop sir," said Dick; and when Adam looked into his face, he saw again that nameless something which compelled him to obey.