career would be furthered by a fresh start in another town.  You see,” he continued, a faint blush dyeing his old cheek ... old in sorrow not in years ...  “I am revealing mysteries of my past life which I have hitherto kept strictly within my own breast.  I cannot do this without shame, because while in the many serious conversations we have had on this subject, I have always insisted upon John Scoville’s guilt.  I have never allowed myself to admit the least fact which would in any way compromise Oliver.  A cowardly attitude for a judge you will say, and you are right; but for a father—­Mrs. Scoville, I love my boy.  I—­What’s that?”

The front door-bell was ringing.

In a flash Deborah was out of the room.  It was as if she had flown with unnecessary eagerness to answer a bidding which, after all, Reuther could easily have attended to.  It struck him aghast for the instant, then he began slowly to gather up the papers before him and carry them back into the other room.  Had he, instead, made straight for the doorway leading to the front of the house, he would have come upon the figure of Deborah standing alone and with her face pressed in anguish and unspeakable despair against the lintel.  Something had struck her heart and darkened her soul since that exalted moment in which she cried: 

“Henceforth I will be Oliver’s advocate.”

When the judge at last came forth, it was at Reuther’s bidding.

A gentleman wished to see him in the parlour.

This was so unprecedented,—­even of late when the ladies did receive some callers, that he stopped short after his first instinctive step, to ask her if the gentleman had given his name.

She said no; but added that he was not alone; that he had a very strange and not very nice-looking person with him whom mother insisted should remain in the hall.  “Mother requests you to see the gentleman, Judge Ostrander.  She said you would wish to, if you once saw the person accompanying him.”

With a dark glance, not directed against her, however, the judge bade her run away to the kitchen and as far from all these troubles as she could, then, locking his door behind him, as he always did, he strode towards the front.

He found Deborah standing guard over an ill-conditioned fellow whose slouching figure slouched still more under his eye, but gave no other acknowledgment of his presence.  Passing him without a second look, Judge Ostrander entered the parlour where he found no less a person than Mr. Black awaiting him.

There was no bad blood between these two whatever their past relations or present suspicions, and they were soon shaking hands with every appearance of mutual cordiality.

The judge was especially courteous.

“I am glad,” said he, “of any occasion which brings you again under my roof, though from the appearance of your companion I judge the present one to be of no very agreeable character.”