“Mr. Birch is noble and generous. He is kind to me beyond expression. He forgave me the wrong I did him. I confessed everything; I put myself wholly in his hands.” “If Mr. Birch can forgive you, surely we can,” said Eugene. “Here is my hand, doctor. We will be as though nothing had happened.” “You overwhelm me, Mr. Hungerford,” exclaimed Dr. Lynch, in tones broken with emotion. “I am unworthy to take your hand.” “As a man who has done wrong, and truly repented, you are worthy of respect and admiration. Not many men have the courage to confess their fault.” “It is only tardily that I have done so. Courage was all I lacked. The truth has been too mighty for me. Mr. Birch, with the truth on his side, has overwhelmed me. I have no merit. Mr. Hungerford, you have saved me. I could not endure my disgrace. When I left Mr. Birch, it was with the intention of ending my miserable life before to-morrow morning.” “That would be cowardly.” “If I had not been a coward, I should have done justice to Mr. Birch four months ago, when I was convicted in my own heart of this foul wrong.” “You will suffer some, doctor, but not much. You have disarmed reproach.” “You are too kind, Mr. Hungerford.” “Come to Pine Hill as before, doctor. You will always find friends here.” “How can I hold up my head in the presence of your mother and Julia?” Eugene thought he could not; he did not say so. He added what he could to console the suffering penitent, and the doctor departed, apparently reconciled to his lot. Julia and her mother went into the library when he had gone. Eugene explained the position of the demigod. Julia was indignant when she heard of his confession; she pitied him when she heard of his penitence and grief. CHAPTER XXVII. THE VERDICT. The court came in on the second day of the trial. Dr. Lynch was present, as he had promised to be. His appearance had greatly changed since he went on the stand the day before. He looked like a man who had endured a lifetime of misery in a single night. His pale face and sunken eyes were the emblems of penitence. People were prepared by what had occurred on the first day for some extraordinary event. The doctor was suffering; he showed it in his looks and in his movements; the damp of the night watch seemed to be clinging to him. Those who saw him pitied him. It was sad to see a man so mighty as the popular physician fall from his high estate. Doubtless Dr. Lynch had suffered intensely; doubtless he had not closed his eyes to sleep during the night; doubtless he had endured untold agonies between the setting and the rising of the sun. He was sorry for something; for what has not yet been told. He was certainly in excellent condition to appear on the stand as a penitent; he was well “made up” for this character.