A Man of Honor

by George Cary Eggleston

"Perhaps when you come to rewrite the letter you will see that its tone is as unjust as any words could possibly be. It seems so to me."

"Let me try my hand again, daughter. Keep your seat please while I write a new letter instead of rewriting the old one."

"There. How will that do?" he asked, as he handed the young woman this hastily-written note.

"My Dear Robert: We have just been hearing some news of you, which I trust you will be able to contradict or explain. It is that you have failed to keep your promise in the matter of your indebtedness to Major Pagebrook, and that you have not even offered a word by way of apology or explanation. The peculiar relations in which you now stand to my family justify me, I think, in asking you to explain a matter which, unexplained, must reflect upon your character as an honorable man. Please write to me by return mail."

"That is more like you, Uncle Carter. But I am sorry to find that you are convinced, in advance, of Robert's guilt. You propose to sit in judgment upon his case, and a court should not only appear but be free from bias."

"Why, my daughter, I can hardly see how there can be any possible excuse in a case like this. You cannot deny that both facts and appearances are against him."

"I doubt whether we have the facts yet, Uncle Carter. Aside from my knowledge of Cous—of Sarah Ann Pagebrook's general character, I saw her do a dishonorable thing once. I saw her open and read a letter which was not addressed to her, and I have no faith whatever in her, or in any statement which comes from her or through her."

Colonel Barksdale was probably not sorry that the conversation was interrupted at this point by the entrance of a servant announcing a client. He felt that it would be idle to argue with Sudie in a matter in which her feelings were strongly enlisted, and he felt that in calling Robert to an account he was doing a simple duty. He was, therefore, rather pleased than otherwise to have an accident terminate a conversation which did not promise to terminate itself agreeably.

Miss Sudie went to her room and wrote to Robert on her own account. I am not at liberty to print her letter here, as I should greatly like to do, but the reader will readily guess its general nature. She told Robert in detail everything that had been said concerning him that day. She told him of her uncle's anger, and of the probability that everybody would believe him guilty if he failed to establish his innocence; but she assured him that she, at least, had no idea of doubting him for a moment.

"For your sake," she wrote, "I hope you will be able to offer a convincing explanation; but whether you can do that or not, Robert, I know that you are true and manly, and not even facts shall ever make me doubt your truth. I may never be able to see how your action has been right, but I shall know, nevertheless, that it has been so. My woman love is truer, to me at least, than logic—truer than fact—truer than truth itself."