"Well, they'll make no more trouble," he said, and started toward the fire-place. She laid a hand upon his arm. "What are you going to do?" "Burn them." She shook her head and held out her hand. "No--you must not. Give them to me." He laid them in her hand. "But why do you want them?" "Didn't you ever think, David, that there may come a time, years from now, when you may want to clear your name? Well, these letters will help. I shall keep them for that time. They're precious to me, because they contain your good name." She slipped the soiled and worn packet into the front of her dress. In the silence that followed, her mind, as it was constantly doing these days, reverted to her father's business practices, and again she was beset by the necessity of telling David her new estimate of her father. She gathered her strength, and, eyes downcast, told him briefly, brokenly, that her father was not an honest man. "So you see," she ended, "I have no right to any of these things about me--I have no right to stay here." David had suffered with her the shame of her confession. He took her hands. "Oh, I wish I had the right to ask you to come to me, Helen!" She raised her eyes. "I'm coming to you," she said. "But I'd be a brute to let you. You can leave your father, and yet keep almost everything of your present life except its wealth--your friends, your position, your influence, your honour. I can't let you give up all these things--exchange them for my disgrace. I can't let you become the wife of a thief! I love you too much!" "But I'm ready for it!" "I can't do it, Helen! I can't!" She gazed at his pain-drawn, determined face--her eyes wide, her lips loosely parted, her face gray. "And you never will?" she whispered. "I can't!" he groaned huskily. His arm dropped from the chair back about her shoulders, and they sat silently gazing into each other's eyes. They were still sitting so when the library doors rolled back and Mr. Chambers appeared between them. David sprang up, and Helen also rose. Mr. Chambers gave back a pace as to a blow, and his hand gripped the door. For a moment he stared at them, then he quietly closed the door and crossed the room. Rigidly erect, he paused in front of Helen, his face pale and set and harsh, and looked squarely into her face. He turned a second to David; his gray eyes were like knives of gray steel. Then his gaze came back to Helen. "What's this mean?" his quiet voice grated out. Helen's face was like paper and her eyes, held straight into his, had a fixed, wild stare. She gathered her strength with a supreme effort. "I'm going to marry him," she said. For a moment he merely stared at her. Then he reached out a hand that trembled, caught her arm and shook her lightly. "Helen?" he cried. "Helen?" "I'm going to marry him," she repeated, with a little gasp. "You're--really--in--your--senses?" "I am."