“I can’t tell you until I find out,” replied Herbert. “We will soon see who it is, for here they are now,” added Herbert as the carriage drew up before the stile.

Dr. Maltby got out, and assisted Mrs. King out, and then the “third” person got out—he was no other than Albert King. He had been brave enough to come out to Brookland to declare his innocence, as far as the stabbing of Mattie Sowers was concerned. He walked up on the porch beside the doctor. He looked very pale and agitated, but he braved it out.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” said Dr. Maltby and Mrs. King as they stopped on the porch. The usual greetings soon being over, they went into the parlor. All present spoke to Albert, as they didn’t like to hurt Mrs. King’s feelings.

When they reached the parlor, they found Mr. Sowers and wife there, also Kent. His eyes brightened as he saw the young man with the scarred face.

Poor penitent Albert was greeted very coldly. When the ordinary greetings of polite society had been exchanged, Albert stepped out into the middle of the room—his head erect—his steps firm—and said:

“Friends, and Enemies: I came here this evening to declare my innocence in regard to the stabbing of Miss Mattie. I knew nothing of it until Miss Ella told me. I declare upon God’s holy book, I am innocent!”

The young man paused and looked eagerly into the face of his hearers. He saw, by their looks, they did not believe him—

“On what grounds do you make this charge—you have not made it to me yet—but I have found out all about [it] while I was playing traitor. The question is, what grounds have you for making the charge? I always liked Miss Mattie.” The young man spoke the words fluently, and in a way that no one but those with a clear conscience could speak.

Sowers rose and said in a cool tone:

 

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Kent, after seeing this, rose up and started out of the room. Albert had sat down beside his mother, and as Kent passed by him, he whispered:

“Be of good cheer, young man. I believe you innocent and will do all I can for you.”

No one noticed him, as they were deeply absorbed in other matters of more importance. Albert rose again, and walking over to where William and Ella sat he said, as he extended his hand to William:

“William, I hope you will forgive me for all I have done.” William grasped the proffered hand and said:

“Yes, Albert, I freely forgive you for all you have tried to do to me—I say all and I mean all, though I have not heard exactly what you tried to do.”

“I will tell you all,” said Albert. He then related in as few words as possible where he had wandered and for what purpose. In conclusion, he asked anxiously:

“And you forgive me all, after hearing my fiendish plans—plans for your destruction?”

“I forgive all, and we will be friends the same as we used to be,” said Willie.

“You will not tell who were your employers?” asked William. He did not notice the nervous twitching on Sowers’ face.

“No, I’ll tell on none but myself; the rest must be revealed some day,” replied Albert. “And now,” turning to Ella, “now, Miss Ella, I ask you to forgive me my hasty and thoughtless words.” As he spoke he extended his hand, which she grasped as she said in calm forgiving tones:

“I forgive you, Albert, for you were at the time suffering with temporary insanity, so of course I forgive you, and I wish Bertie to do so,” concluded she, glancing at her brother. Herbert stood up, and taking Albert’s hand in his, he said:

“Albert, I had nothing against you but what you said to my sister. If she forgives what you threatened to do to her, of course, I have no right to object.”

“Thank God, thank God!” was all Albert could manage to say as he proceeded to his seat. The doctor then arose and said:

“Mr. and Mrs. Sowers, I believe Albert is innocent of the charge made against him. What could have been his motive in so doing? You can’t bring any argument at all that would cause anyone to believe him guilty after hearing him declare his innocence so boldly. Let this difficulty be settled at once, for he is innocent.”

Mrs. Sowers arose and advanced toward Albert. The young man ran to meet her, so great was his joy when he saw what was her intention. “Do you believe me innocent?” he asked in his breathless anxiety.

“Yes, Albert, I know you are innocent of the charge brought against you,” replied Mrs. Sowers as she shook the young man’s extended hand. We must premise the fact that Hugh and Annie Walters, also some of his other relatives, went into the dining room to stay awhile, for they didn’t wish to witness the scene that was being enacted in the parlor.

“Well, I must also extend the hand of friendship,” said Sowers, sarcastically.

“Not unless you believe me innocent,” asserted Albert. “If you believe me innocent of the charge made against me, we will shake hands as a token of friendship.”

“I, with the others, believe you innocent,” said Sowers in an earnest mood as he grasped Albert’s hand warmly.

Immediately after this, Mattie went into the dining room and invited the guests in the parlor—the guests that were sitting in the first-named room.

“The amazing farce is over then? Eh, Mattie?” inquired Hugh as he with the other[s] rose to go to the parlor. “How did Al get off? Has Kent took him in custody?”

“No indeed. Albert is as innocent of the charge made against him as you or anyone under this roof at present,” affirmed Mattie earnestly.

“You believe him innocent then,” said Hugh with a broad laugh.

“I know he is,” asserted Mattie. They had reached the parlor then, and they said no more on the subject. Hugh walked up to Albert—a mischievous smile upon his face—and said carelessly, as he took hold of Albert’s hand:

“Well, Al, old fellow, where have you been so long? How are you and how have you been all this while? I am a[s] glad to see you, old boy, as I would have been if I had lost my pocket book.” And then in an emphatic voice—“Providing the pocket book had no money in it.”

“I’ll tell you at some future time where I have been,” said Albert. “Let it suffice for me to say now that I am very glad to meet you once more and find you are still my friend.” Albert’s last words were spoken half-inquiringly.

“Oh yes, always your friend, Albert, you have never done me any harm,” asserted Hugh. “But here is my sister. I will introduce you to her; that is, if you are not already acquainted?” concluded Hugh.

“We are not,” said Albert as his eyelids drooped under the influence of those dark eyes, which were peering at him.

“Mr. Albert P. King, Miss Annie C. Walters,” said Hugh in a clear voice. The style at that time was to shake hands when introduced to anyone. So Albert took the proffered hand and said as he did so:

“I am happy to make your acquaintance, Miss Walters. How have you been?”

“Thank you, Mr. King. I have been well,” responded the beautiful girl, blushingly. Albert forgot all his troubles; he was like Josh Billings on boots. Josh says: “Tite butes ar[e] a luxury as they cause a man to furgit all his other muzeriez.”^[1] So it was with Albert—the sight of this young lady caused him to forget all his other miseries. This was the girl he had been muttering about to himself. He had caught sight of her before he left Winchester, but had never had a chance to get acquainted with her, as she had not been in Winchester very long. Albert took a seat near her after she had been introduced to the doctor and Mrs. King. He took a seat beside her, and began a conversation that was agreeable to both. He was not a bad looking man, so Annie thought, so she chatted away freely. Herbert was not idle, neither was William, but Hugh was, as far as talking to the ladies was concerned. So he chatted with the doctor and Mr. Sowers. Then, as Mrs. King was a widow lady, he determined not to be beat—turned to her and began to chat. To be brief, they were all busily and very pleasantly employed.

Kent had not returned as yet.

The sun had sunk to rest behind the western hills, and they were looking every moment for the ladies and gentlemen from the Taylor Hotel. Finally, looking out, they saw the long-looked-for three persons, for their carriage had already stopped at the stile.

Hugh did not know that he would lose his heart at the party, but he was destined to lose it—irrecoverably lose it.

The gentleman assisted his wife and daughter out of the carriage and, as Jack was there to care for the horses, he proceeded to the house at once, where he was warmly welcomed.

“How are you, Mr. and Mrs. Beverly?” asked Sowers as he shook the old gentleman’s hand. Sowers trembled all over.

“I am well, thank you, Mr. Sowers. How are you?” inquired Mr. Beverly.

Sowers asserted that they were all well. And then came the introductions. Hugh was the last one introduced, and the last one he was introduced to was Musadora Beverly—Mr. Beverly’s daughter. Hugh’s heart was gone then, for the beautiful young lady before him took his heart captive, and it was to be a never-ending captivity. The darkness came on. Other guests arrived, Mrs. Barton, and also Wilse.

Many others arrived whose names are too tedious to mention. Kent had not made his appearance yet. The two parlors were made one and they were brilliantly illuminated.

The servants were in attendance and everything was going on nicely, when a horrified scream broke the dull monotonous roar of the creek.

The guests as well as the host were astounded. What did it all mean? No one could tell. Finally, there was a thumping at the front door, and one of the servants opened it and was astonished at the sight that met their gaze, for there stood a Son of Erin with the motionless form of a girl in his arms.

The master was immediately informed of the state of affairs and every one of the guests came out on the porch to see the sight. What was Dr. Maltby’s surprise when he recognized the Irishman to be his informant—the man that informed him of the existence of his long-lost love. “Who have you got there, Pat?” asked he eagerly.