"When darling Maud died," repeated Mrs. Grey, dreamily. Then after silent reflection she said, "Maud died; yes, but Maud was not accused of crime. To lay away a lovely child in the grave is nothing--nothing, by the side of this horror." "Such a man as Frank can live down disgrace," said Laura. "Disgrace!" repeated Mrs. Grey, "what care I for disgrace? It is sin against God that makes me shudder; the bare suspicion that my boy has wounded my Master." And now, as if the mention of that sacred name was a gigantic power, her passing weakness disappeared, and the prompt, resolute, strong woman stood equipped for her journey. And on the way to her son, her prayers rushed like the engine that bore her to his presence, straight to their end, and she began to reproach herself for her want of faith. "Am I to fancy that my children can break through the hedge my prayers have built about them?" she asked herself. "Suppose Frank has been sorely tempted, am I to forget that he belongs to a covenant-keeping God?" Day and night they flew on; at one station they were joined by Cyril Heath. "Belle thought I should intercept you," he said, cheerily. "I hope this miserable business is not weighing upon you, _mother_," tenderly using this word for the first time. "The shock has been terrible," she replied; "I never could have believed I so little knew what trouble meant." "You do not mean to say that you have the slightest suspicion that these rumors have any foundation in truth? I have none, nor has Belle." "I am afraid my faith in human nature is not as strong as it was twenty years ago. But I ought to have faith in God as a Hearer of prayer, and thought I had." "You have the strongest faith of any one I know, except my dear Belle," he said decidedly. "This shock has staggered you, but you will get over it. Ah, here we are! And whose bright face is that in the crowd--if it isn't Frank's? Hurrah!" In a moment Frank bounded into the train, his face aglow with health and happiness. "I knew you would come," he said, "and I made a nice calculation as to when. But I did not expect you, Cyril. How are you, old fellow? Come, here's the carriage, and Lily in it, waiting for you." "What a ridiculous old goose I am," said Mrs. Grey to herself. "The idea of distrusting a man with such a face." On reaching home Frank could hardly do enough for the travelers, to show his appreciation of their sympathy.