"de mortuis"--you know the phrase, i think;

a kindly saying, such as poor humanity

mutters at times when talking of the dead;

therefore, i pray you, speak not any ill

of this poor soul who suffered, sinned, and died,

seeing her sinning brought her but to this;

yourself when gone may need a pitying word,

when all your virtues with you are entombed, and naught remains but sins to curse your name.

so it was dombrain, after all, who had committed this crime, and, by accusing mrs. belswin of the murder, placed her life in jeopardy, in order both to revenge and save himself. had it not been for the unexpected evidence of samson belk, without doubt the unhappy woman would have been found guilty, and suffered in the place of the astute mr. dombrain. when this ex-lawyer, ex-convict, and constant blackguard heard himself accused of the crime, he slipped out of the court and vanished before he could be arrested, knowing that he could make no defence.

part of his evidence was true, for he had been in the drawing-room, he had seen mrs. belswin enter the study, but here his truth ceased and his lies began. fearing lest his name should be mentioned by the infuriated woman during the interview, which would be sure to end in the discomfiture of mrs. belswin the lawyer, trembling for his respectable position, went to his bedroom and took his air-pistol, so as to be prepared for emergencies. it is but fair to mr. dombrain to say that he had no intention of using the weapon unless everything was lost; so, creeping out of the house, he placed himself beside the open window of the study, in order to hear what mrs. belswin would say.

in accordance with his expectations, she did tell sir rupert all about him, and when dombrain heard the declaration of the baronet that he would denounce him, he knew that all was lost, and that the sin of his early youth was going to cost him the respectable position of his middle age. when mrs. belswin, thrust forth by her unforgiving husband, fled out into the night, dombrain, trembling, sick at heart at seeing all that made his life worth living vanish, crouched still beside the window, and here sir rupert, who had come out to make sure that his divorced wife had taken herself off, found him.

then an interview between the lawyer and the baronet took place, in which the latter swore to reveal all the infamy of dombrain, and have him struck off the rolls. in vain the wretched man pleaded for mercy. coldly and inflexibly the baronet thrust him out of doors, the same way he had done his wife; and then mad with anger at the terrible future before him, dombrain shot sir rupert, in the manner described by belk in the witness-box. after committing the crime and assuring himself that his victim was dead, he coolly stepped across the body, and took refuge in his own room, from whence he did not emerge for the rest of the night. it was true, as he said, that his room was near the head of the staircase, for he saw mrs. belswin leave the study as he described, so it was then that the idea came into his head to secure himself by sacrificing her, and thus both save and revenge himself at one time.

on leaving the court after having been denounced by belk, his rage against all the world for his thwarted revenge and his perilous position knew no bounds. he had no idea of escaping justice, but determined before he was seized to punish the woman who had--as he believed--dragged him down even lower than his former position. then he had simply embezzled money, but now he had committed a crime for which he would lose his life; and thus, seeing that his doom was fixed, he determined that mrs. belswin should suffer for placing him in such a perilous position.

with this idea in his head, he took the air-pistol with which he had killed sir rupert, and went to the lodgings of the dead man's daughter and mrs. belswin. skilfully managing to evade the notice of the servant, he ensconced himself behind the curtains in the drawing-room, and shot the unhappy woman as described. at first, knowing how bitter it would be to mrs. belswin, he had intended to kill kaituna, but the unexpected action of the mother had saved the daughter from a terrible death. satisfied with his work, dombrain threw down the pistol and disappeared--disappeared into the depths of london, from whence he never emerged. what became of him nobody ever knew. whether he took another name, and resumed his profession in provincial england; whether he left the country; whether he died in the gutter, no one ever discovered. falling into the immense ocean of london like a drop of rain, he became obliterated, lost, unknown, but no doubt in due time he met his reward for his evil doings.

and his victim? alas, poor soul, her troubles, her trials, her follies, were all at an end, and a simple cross marked the place where she was buried. to that humble grave, a year after the events described, came mr. and mrs. maxwell, in reverence for the memory of the woman--the mother who had given her life for that of her child. maxwell had married kaituna in due course after a decent time had elapsed from the death of mrs. belswin, and later on he had gone to south america, on business connected with his profession; for, in spite of kaituna's wealth, archie could not bring himself to live upon her income. he had gone away for a few months to buenos ayres, and had now returned to the side of kaituna for ever. after much difficulty she had persuaded him to accept her view of the question, and share the proceeds of the pole star mine. to this, after much hesitation, maxwell consented, and now the husband and wife had arranged to make a tour of the world together. before leaving england, however, they came to kensal green cemetery to pay a last visit to the grave of the woman who had sinned, but who also had suffered.

"poor mother!" said kaituna, as she leaned on the strong arm of her husband. "what a terribly bitter life she had, and her death was hardly less sad."

"she saved you, my darling," replied maxwell, with a fond smile; "and that, in her eyes, was recompense enough for the sudden ending of her life."

"if that wretch who killed her had only been punished?"

"i've no doubt he is punished. it is true he escaped the hands of men, but i am certain he will not escape the punishment of god. but come, my dear kaituna, these thoughts make you sad. let us leave this dreary place."

"yes; but see, archie, that withered wreath of roses! it has been placed there by ferrari, i am sure."

"but i thought he had gone to italy."

"only three weeks ago! he came to me and talked a great deal about our poor mother, whom he loved very dearly in his own impulsive way. but now he is back in his own country, he no doubt will forget about her. men have such short memories."

"don't say that. remember belk."

"oh, he will go the same way," said kaituna, a little bitterly. "certainly he behaved very well, for he used to bring flowers here every week, along with ferrari. how these two men must have loved my mother!"

"she deserved their love," replied maxwell, after a pause. "she had sinned, it is true, but she was bitterly punished for her sin. well, she lies here, and the two men who loved her have gone far away--one to italy, the other to america."

"ah, all our friends go thus!"

"not all, my dear. remember toby clendon and his wife, who are living so happily at deswarth. we must go down and see them before we leave england."

"no, no!" said kaituna, with a sudden shudder. "i cannot bear to go near thornstream after those terrible events which cost the lives of both my parents."

"come, dear one," urged maxwell, seeing how overcome she was with emotion, "let us go away."

"one moment," replied kaituna, kneeling beside the grave. "i must say farewell to my poor mother."

and kneeling there in the long green grass, she breathed a prayer for the soul of her unhappy mother, whose natural love had cost her so dear.

maxwell, who had removed his hat when he heard this prayer mount like incense to the throne of god, quoted a text from the scriptures in a low voice--

"she suffered much, so much shall be forgiven of her!"