not; she was worthy of more confidence than that.

"You must not be unduly alarmed about the future," I said. "I have it
from Dr. Thorndyke that he is convinced of Reuben's innocence, and is
hopeful of being able to make it clear to the world. But I did not have
this to repeat," I added, with a slight qualm of conscience.

"I know," she said softly, "and I thank you from my heart."

"And as to this present misfortune," I continued, "you must not let it
distress you too much. Try to think of it as of a surgical operation,
which is a dreadful thing in itself, but is accepted in lieu of
something which is immeasurably more dreadful."

"I will try to do as you tell me," she answered meekly; "but it is so
shocking to think of a cultivated gentleman like Reuben, herded with
common thieves and murderers, and locked in a cage like some wild
animal. Think of the ignominy and degradation!"

"There is no ignominy in being wrongfully accused," I said--a little
guiltily, I must own, for Thorndyke's words came back to me with all
their force. But regardless of this I went on: "An acquittal will
restore him to his position with an unstained character, and nothing but
the recollection of a passing inconvenience to look back upon."

She gave her eyes a final wipe, and resolutely put away her
handkerchief.

"You have given me back my courage," she said, "and chased away my
terror. I cannot tell you how I feel your goodness, nor have I any