never before seen in her. He stood gazing at her in silent surprise.

"Papa," cried Moira passionately, answering his look, "do you think what
he is saying? I know my brother Allan clean through to the heart. He
is wild at times, and might rage perhaps and--and--break things, but he
will not lie nor cheat. He will die first, and that I warrant you."

Still her father stood gazing upon her as she stood proudly erect,
her pale face alight with lofty faith in her brother and scorn of his
traducer. "My child, my child," he said, huskily, "how like you are to
your mother! Thank God! Indeed it may be you're right! God grant it!" He
drew her closely to him.

"Papa, Papa," she whispered, clinging to him, while her voice broke in a
sob, "you know Allan will not lie. You know it, don't you, Papa?"

"I hope not, dear child, I hope not," he replied, still holding her to
him.

"Papa," she cried wildly, "say you believe me."

"Yes, yes, I do believe you. Thank God, I do believe you. The boy is
straight."

At that word she let him go. That her father should not believe in Allan
was to her loyal heart an intolerable pain. Now Allan would have someone
to stand for him against "that lawyer" and all others who might seek to
do him harm. At the House door she stood watching her father drive down
through the ragged firs to the highroad, and long after he had passed
out of sight she still stood gazing. Upon the church tower rising out of