desire to be true; and
I do not think you will find Yanna more unforgiving than you
deserve."

"I will try not to err in the same way again, sir."

"Do not; for just as a noble character is slowly elaborated by a
constant repetition of virtuous acts, so a base character is the
result of a perpetual repetition of unworthy ones. You cannot,
therefore, afford to do things which compel you to say frequently: 'I
have sinned, and I am sorry.'"

"I trust that I know the value of a good character, sir."

"Indeed, Harry, character pure and high is the best thing a man can
have. To have got it is to have got all; to have missed it is to have
missed all."

"I had no pleasure in my fault. I should have been infinitely happier
with Yanna."

"Pleasure seekers are never pleasure finders. Pleasure seekers are
always selfish; and self never yet sufficed for self. The essence of
all sin is the making of self the centre, round which we would have
everything revolve. To be delivered from this desire is the
turning-point in moral progress and in spiritual renewal."

"I will try and do my whole duty in the future. I will, sir!"

"Duty! that is the great law. But it must be an ever-present
consciousness. It must lie close to all your thoughts. It must haunt
your very being. And I can tell you, Harry, that your sensual nature
will shrink from such company. But be not discouraged, for when duty
has become an habitual law, then obedience to it will be a choice and
a delight."

"Will you say a word to Yanna for me, sir."

"I will walk with you to the door. That will be sufficient. Speak for
yourself; you speak to a tender heart."

So they walked together through the garden, Peter delaying a little at
the various beds of spring blossoms, for he wished Adriana to see that
he had quite forgiven Harry's offence, and taken him into favor again.
And such forgivenesses are better thus understood; nothing is gained
by discussing faults which are admitted, and for which there is no
apology but the pitiful one of an unconquerable temptation. Peter's
talk was of the flowers, and of the fine spring weather, but Harry was
hardly conscious of what he said; for he felt that his future had been
brought to the fine turning-point of a single word. Would Yanna speak
it?

Peter led him into the parlor and called Yanna. Then he said something
about the strawberry beds and left the lover to plead his own cause.
There was a few minutes' delay, which Ha