"What's wrong?" the girl asked as she entered the room where he waited
for her. "You look half dead!"
"I am, Isabel," he said chokingly. "I've had a death-blow. They are
accusing me of stealing the bank's money."
"Oh, Martin! Oh, how dreadful! I'll never forgive you!" The girl spoke
in tearful voice. "How perfectly dreadful to have such a thing said
after Father got you into the bank! Your reputation is ruined for life!
You can never live down such a disgrace."
"But I didn't do it!" he cried. "You must know I couldn't have done
it!"
"Oh, I suppose you didn't if you say so, but people always are ready to
say that where there's smoke there must be some fire! Oh, dear, people
know you're a friend of mine and next thing the papers will link our
names in the notoriety and--oh, what a dreadful thing to happen!
They'll print horrible things about you and may drag me into it, too!
Say you spent the money on me, or something like that! Father will be
so mortified and sorry he helped you. Oh, dear, I think it's dreadful,
dreadful!" She burst into weeping.
As Martin watched her and listened to her utterly selfish words, in
spite of the misery in his heart, he was keenly conscious that she was
being weighed in the balance and found wanting. The lightning flash had
come to him and revealed how impotent she was, how shallow and selfish.
"Well, don't cry about it," he said, half bitterly, yet too crushed to
be aught but gentle. "It won't hurt you. I'll see to that. If there's
anything to bear I'll bear it alone. My shoulders are broad."
There was more futile exchange of words, words that lacked any comfort
or hope for the broken-hearted man. Martin soon left and started for
his home.
Home--he couldn't go there and tell his people that he was suspected of
a crime. Home--its old sweet meaning would be changed for all of them
if one of its flock was blackened.
He flurried past the Reist farmhouse, head down like a criminal so that
none should recognize him. With quick steps that almost merged into a
run he went up the road. When he reached the little Crow Hill
schoolhouse a sudden thought came to him. He climbed the rail fence and
entered the woods, plodded up the hill to the spot where Amanda's
moccasins grew each spring. There he threw himself on the grassy slope,
face down, and gave vent to his despair.