there also. Let me at least respect you, James."

Christine had never spoken in this way before to him; the majesty and
purity of her character lifted him insensibly to higher thoughts, her
gentleness soothed and comforted him. When David came in he found them
talking in a calm, cheerful tone, and the evening that followed was
one of the pleasantest he could remember. Yet James understood that
Christine trusted in his forbearance, and he had no heart to grieve
her, especially as she did her best to reward him by striving to make
his visits to her father unusually happy.

So Donald married Miss Napier, and the newspapers were full of the
bridegroom's beauty and talents, and the bride's high lineage and
great possessions. After this Donald and Donald's affairs seemed to
very little trouble David's humble household. His marriage put him far
away from Christine's thoughts, for her delicate conscience would have
regarded it as a great sin to remember with any feeling of love
another woman's affianced husband; and when the struggle became one
between right and wrong, it was ended for Christine. David seldom
named him, and so Donald McFarlane gradually passed out of the lives
he had so sorely troubled.

Slowly but surely James continued to prosper; he rose to be cashier in
the bank, and he won a calm but certain place in Christine's regard.
She had never quite recovered the shock of her long illness; she was
still very frail, and easily exhausted by the least fatigue or
excitement. But in James' eyes she was perfect; he was always at his
best in her presence, and he was a very proud and happy man when,
after eight years' patient waiting and wooing, he won from her the
promise to be his wife; for he knew that with Christine the promise
meant all that it ought to mean.

The marriage made few changes in her peaceful life. James left the
bank, put his savings in David's business, and became his partner. But
they continued to live in the same house, and year after year passed
away in that happy calm which leaves no records, and has no fate days
for the future to date from.

Sometimes a letter, a newspaper, or some public event, would bring
back the memory of the gay, handsome lad that had once made so bright
the little back parlor. Such strays from Donald's present life were
always pleasant ones. In ten years he had made great strides forward.
Every one had a good word for him. His legal skill was quoted as
authority, his cha