"Oh, don't, John--don't put it like that! I've borne enough--I can't bear much more. I think I'm going mad. My brain throbs, everything goes dim before my sight, and my heart leaps, and shooting pains--" She tottered forward into her husband's arms. He clasped her close, drawing her to him and pressing kisses on her cheeks. "My darling, my darling, be strong. It is not ended yet." "Take me home, John--take me home!" she sobbed. "No, I'll see the old man myself." "John! John! It'll do no good--I beseech you! I cannot trust you out of my sight. I never know what you may do or what you will say. I know it's hard for you to go against your principles; but you mustn't absolutely kill me. I should die, John, if you played traitor to me, your wife, and allowed me to be sent to jail." "Don't Mary--don't!" he groaned. "When a man leaves his father and mother, he cleaves unto his wife: and, when I left my home, John, I was faithful and true to you. It was for you that I stooped to the trick which I now realize was a crime which my father uses as a whip to lash me with. We must live it down, John. The bank people are rich. It won't hurt them much--whereas confession would annihilate us." "The money must be paid back," he cried resolutely, striking the air with his clenched fist, while he held her to him with the other arm. "It's impossible, John, impossible. We cannot pay back without explaining why." "We must atone--for Dick's sake. No man shall say that our son robbed him of money without compensation from us, his parents. Let us go home, Mary, and begin from to-day. The rectory must be given up. It must be let furnished, and the servants dismissed. We must go into some cheap place." "Yes, let us go home, John. You'll talk more reasonably there, and see things in another light." The man listened, and allowed himself to be led. This was as it had been always; but it could not go on forever. Deep down in John Swinton's vacillating nature, there was the spirit of a martyr. CHAPTER XVIII A SECOND PROPOSAL Dora was undetermined in her attitude toward Dick's enemy, who, for her sake, was ready to become his friend and save his name from public disgrace. She had a poor opinion of a man who was willing to further his own suit by making concessions to a rival, even though that rival were dead; but her attitude of mind toward Dick was changing slowly under outside influence--as it was bound to do with a clear-headed girl, trained to the strict code of honor that exists among military men concerning other people's money. A soldier who had committed forgery could never hold up his head again in the eyes of his regiment, or of the woman he loved. He voluntarily made himself an outcast.