"I've come to have a talk with you, father," said Dick, cheerily. He seized the poker, and raked together the embers of the dying fire, as naturally as though no interval of time had elapsed since he was there last. The rector wiped his eyes and pulled himself together, realizing, after the first rush of emotion, the terrible situation created by his son's return. His natural impulse was to rush upstairs to Mary, and tell her the glad news--glad, yet terrible. But Dick forestalled him by remarking quite casually: "I want to see you first, father, before telling mother. My coming back will be a shock; and she ought to be prepared." "Yes--you've taken me by surprise, my boy. Why didn't you write? Why didn't you let us know? Why didn't you telegraph?" "I did write, and I thought you knew all about it, and would be expecting me, and, as soon as I landed, I telegraphed to Dora Dundas, thinking she would call on mother. But the colonel intercepted my telegram, and came himself, and told me of the--of the--" The rector looked down at his desk; he could not face his son. His hand involuntarily clenched as it rested on the table. "He told me of the mess I've got myself into over the bank business--told me they would arrest me if I came home. But I couldn't keep away, father." There were tears in Dick's voice now. "I just wanted to see you before--before emigrating." "Emigrating, my boy! Why should you emigrate?" This was hardly the tone that Dick expected: no reproach, no questioning. "It's no good running the risk of a prosecution, is it, father? And, as I've disgraced the family, I'd--" "You mean to say that you don't deny the bank's charge of forgery?" "No--no, father, I don't deny it. Why should I?" The rector looked at his son helplessly, in agonized appeal. His hands went up, and he bowed his head before him. Dick was the strong man, and he the weak one. Dick was ready to be wiped out of existence, rather than betray his mother. He believed that his father knew nothing. "Dick--forgive!" The stricken father took a step forward, but his strength gave out, and he dropped upon his knees at his son's feet. "Dick! Dick! We are sinners, your mother and I. I ask your pardon. Forgive me, boy, forgive--It was my wish from the first that you should be set straight. I knew you were incapable of a fraud, and your mother confessed everything to me. I only consented to the blackening of your name at--at your mother's entreaty--to save Netty's life from ruin and your mother from prison."