“O, sir,” he said, “I thank you—­I thank you!  You have made me as happy as it is now possible for me to become.  It is like going back to heaven, after a long absence, to know that she was pure—­that I was not deceived in her.  O Margie!  Margie! my wronged Margie!  God forgive me for indulging such a thought of you!”

Castrani’s hard face softened a little, as he witnessed the utter abandonment of the proud man before him.

“You may well ask God to forgive you,” he said.  “You deserve the depths of perdition for harboring in your heart a thought against the purity of that woman.  Archer Trevlyn, had she loved me as she did you, I would have cut off my right hand before I would have entertained a suspicion of sin in her!  It is true, she went North on the same train as I did, but I did not know it until the journey was ended.  Previous to that time, I had not seen her for more than a fortnight, and I did not know that she was near me, until in Boston my attention was attracted by a crowd of ‘roughs,’ gathered around a lady and a greyhound.  The lady had lost her porte-monnaie, and the crowd made some insulting remarks which I took the liberty of resenting, and when I saw the lady’s face, to my amazement I recognized Margaret Harrison!”

“And you protected her?  You gave her money and took her to a place of safety?” said Trevlyn, anxiously.

“Of course.  As I should have done by any other lady—­but more especially for her.  I took her to a hotel, and on the morrow saw her start on her journey.  I would have gone on with her, but she declined my escort.”

“O, I thank you—­I thank you, so much!  I shall be your friend always, for that.  You will tell me where she is?”

“No.  I cannot.”

“Cannot.  Does that imply that you will not?”

“It does.”

“Then you know her present place of sojourn?”

“I do.  But she does not desire the knowledge to become general.  I have pledged my word to her not to reveal it.  Neither is it best for you to know.”

“You are right.  It is not.  I might be unable to hinder myself from seeking her.  And that could do no good.  I know that she is innocent.  That shall suffice me.  Only tell me she is well, and agreeably situated.”

“She is both.  More, I think she is at peace.  She is with those who love her.”

“I thank you for bearing with me.  I shall be happier for knowing she was not false to me.  Whatever might have caused her to break the engagement, it was not because she loved another.  Good-by, Mr. Castrani.”

He wrung the hand of the Cuban warmly, and departed.

* * * * *

It was an afternoon in May.  Everything without was smiling and at rest, but Mrs. Trevlyn was cross and out of humor.  Perhaps any lady will say that she had sufficient reason.  Everything had gone wrong.  The cook was sick, and the dinner a failure; her dressmaker had disappointed her in not finishing her dress for the great ball at Mrs. Fitz Noodle’s, that evening; and Annie, her maid, was down with one of her nervous headaches, and she would be obliged to send for a hair-dresser.