When Silas had concluded, they were both silent and thoughtful, and the heavy breathing of little Ben was all the sound that could be heard. This attracted the attention of Silas, and he said, respectfully,-- "Would you mind kissing the boy, ma'am? The poor little fellow is so friendless, and has such a hard time of it, that he makes my heart ache. If you will be good enough, I will tell him of it, and he will always remember it gratefully. Poor chap! I don't suppose he was ever kissed in his life." Annie Dorris went over to the sleeping boy, and, after kissing him, as had been requested, picked him up, and laid him down on a lounge which stood in the room. "There was always something fierce and mysterious about my husband," Mrs. Dorris said, after a time; "but both attracted me to him. I could not help it. A hundred times he has offered to tell me his story, but I did not care to hear it; so that now I know nothing about him except that he was the most worthy gentleman I ever knew, and combined all those qualities which my heart craved. I knew when we were first married that some such result as this was probable, but I could not resist him; and I do not regret it now. Three months of such happiness as I have known will repay me for future years of loneliness, and his kindness and consideration are sweet memories, which console me even now while my grief is so fresh. He was manly and honorable with me in every way; and the fault, if there has been a fault, was my own. I am sure that he was a better man because of his misfortune. I believe now that trouble purifies men, and makes them better; and the more I studied him the more I was convinced that there were few like him; that a trifling thing had ruined his life, and that there were hundreds of men, less honorable, who were more fortunate. Even now I do not care to know more of him than I already know. I fear that this is a fault; but I knew him better than anyone else in the world, and his manner was so pathetic at times, and his love for me always so pronounced, that, though I am now a young woman, I expect to spend my life in doing honor to a noble memory." There was something so womanly in her manner that Silas was convinced that she would live only to honor the memory of his friend. There was inexpressible sadness in her face, but there was also strength, and capacity, and love, and honor.