"I see,--I see," mumbled the lawyer, mopping his brow. "Of course,--er,--you are quite right. You are a very level-headed woman. Quite so. I would have thought of it in another moment or two. You can't leave out that part of it without--er--nullifying the whole object and intent of your--er--ahem!--I was about to say confession, but that is a nasty word. In other words, unless you acknowledge that you and Robert were never lawfully married, the--er--" "Exactly," she broke in crisply. "That is the gist of the matter. Society does not countenance marriage between step-brother and -sister. So we will tell the whole truth,--or nothing at all. Besides, Robert Gwyn put the whole story in writing himself, as I have told you. The hiding-place of that piece of paper is still a mystery, but it will be found some day. I am trying to take the curse off of it, Andrew." As she was leaving the office, he said to her, with deep feeling: "I suppose you realize the consequences, Mrs. Gwyn? It means ostracism for you. You will not have a friend in this town,--not a person who will speak to you, aside from the storekeepers who value your custom and"--he bowed deeply--"your humble servant." "I fully appreciate what it means," she responded wearily. "It means that if I continue to hold my head up or dare to look my neighbour in the face I shall be called brazen as well as corrupt," she went on after a moment, a sardonic little twist at the corner of her mouth. "Well, so be it. I have thought of all that. Have no fear for me, my friend. I have never been afraid of the dark,--so why should I fear the light?" "You're a mighty fine woman, Rachel Gwyn," cried the lawyer warmly. She frowned as she held out her hand. "None of that, if you please," she remarked tersely. "Will you have the paper ready for me to sign this afternoon?" "I will submit it to you right after dinner." "You may expect me here at two o'clock. We will then step over to the Free Press and allow Mr. Semans to copy the document for his paper." She allowed herself a faint smile. "I daresay he can make room for it, even if he has to subtract a little from his account of the stirring events of yesterday." "Your story will make a great sensation," declared the lawyer, wiping his brow once more. "He can't afford to--er--to leave it out." At two o'clock she was in his office again. He read the carefully prepared document to her. "This is like signing your own death warrant, Rachel Gwyn," he said painfully, as she affixed her signature and held up her hand to be sworn. "No. I am signing a pardon for two guiltless people who are suffering for the sins of others."