Katherine moved forward. Her voice quavered, partly from joy, partly from pity for the anguished figure upon the floor.
“It means you are cleared, father! This will explain.” And she gave him Doctor Sherman’s confession.
The old man read it, then passed a bewildered hand across his face.
“I—I don’t understand this!”
“I’ll explain it later,” said Katherine.
“Is—is this true?” It was to the young minister that Doctor West spoke.
“Yes. And more. I can’t ask you to forgive me!” sobbed Doctor Sherman. “It’s beyond forgiveness! But I want to thank you for saving Elsie. At least you’ll let me thank you for that!”
“What I have done here has been only my duty as a physician,” said Doctor West gently. “As for the other matter”—he looked the paper through, still with bewilderment—“as for that, I’m afraid I am not the chief sufferer,” he said slowly, gently. “I have been under a cloud, it is true, and I won’t deny that it has hurt. But I am an old man, and it doesn’t matter much. You are young, just beginning life. Of us two you are the one most to be pitied.”
“Don’t pity me—please!” cried the minister. “I don’t deserve it!”