"You will never know just what the thought of that boy has been to me all these years, and especially this last week.

But now--poor weak Bernal! Poor _Judas_, indeed!" There was a kind of anguished bitterness in the last words.
"My dear, try not to think harshly of the poor boy," remonstrated Allan gently.

"Remember that whatever his mistakes, he has a good heart--and he is my brother." "Oh! you big, generous, good-thinking boy, you--Can't you see that is precisely what he _lacks_--a good heart?
Oh, dearest, I needed this--to show Bernal to me not less than to show you to me.

There were grave reasons why I needed to see you both as I see you this moment." There were steps along the hall and a knock at the door.
"It must be Bernal," he said--"he was to leave about this time." "I can't see him again." "Just this once, dear--for _my_ sake! Come!" Bernal stood in the doorway, hat in hand, his bag at his feet.

With his hat he held a letter.