Yes, it was the thought of Edith that drew Granger back and covered him with reserve.  What more could Mr. Dinneford say?  He had not considered all the hearings of this unhappy case; but now that he remembered the divorce, he began to see, how full of embarrassment it was, and how delicate the relation he bore to this unhappy victim of his wife’s dreadful crime.

What could he say for Edith?  Nothing!  He knew that her heart had never turned itself away from this man, though she had, under a pressure she was not strong enough to resist, turned her back upon him and cast aside his dishonored name, thus testifying to the world that she believed him base and criminal.  If he should speak of her, would not the young man answer with indignant scorn?

“Give me the address of your friends, and I will call upon them immediately,” said Mr. Dinneford, replying, after a long silence, to Granger’s last remark.  “I am here to repair, to any extent that in me lies the frightful wrongs you have suffered.  I shall make your cause my own, and never rest until every false tarnish shall be wiped from your name.  In honor and conscience I am bound to this.”

Looking at the young man intently, he saw a grateful response in the warmer color that broke into his face and in the moisture that filled his eyes.

“I would be base if I were not thankful, Mr. Dinneford,” Granger replied.  “But you cannot put yourself in my place, cannot know what I have suffered, cannot comprehend the sense of wrong and cruel rejection that has filled my soul with the very gall of bitterness.  To be cast out utterly, suddenly and without warning from heaven into hell, and for no evil thought or act!  Ah, sir! you do not understand.”

“It was a frightful ordeal, George,” answered Mr. Dinneford, laying his hand on Granger with the tenderness of a father.  “But, thank God! it is over.  You have stood the terrible heat, and now, coming out of the furnace, I shall see to it that not even the smell of fire remain upon your garments.”

Still the young man could not be moved from his purpose to remain at the asylum until he had seen and conferred with his friends, in whose hands Mr. Dinneford placed the governor’s pardon and the affidavit of Lloyd Freeling setting forth his innocence.

Mrs. Bray did not call on Mr. Dinneford, as she had promised.  She had quarreled with Pinky Swett, as the reader will remember, and in a fit of blind anger thrust her from the room.  But in the next moment she remembered that she did not know where the girl lived, and if she lost sight of her now, might not again come across her for weeks or months.  So putting on her hat and cloak hurriedly, she waited until she heard Pinky going down stairs, and then came out noiselessly, and followed her into the street.  She had to be quick in her movements, for Pinky, hot with anger, was dashing off at a rapid speed.  For three or four blocks Mrs. Bray kept her in view;