u by Him who died for
us that at last I only wanted to find my sister that I might save her.
But I am such a helpless creature, and----"

John put his arm about Paul's shoulders.

"Forgive me, brother. I was mad to talk to you like that--I who sent you
out on that cruel night and staid at home myself. You did what you
could----"

"You think that--really?"

"Yes, only at the moment it seemed as if we had changed places somehow,
and it was I who had lost a sister and been out to find her, and given up
the search too soon, and come home empty and useless and broken-spirited,
and----"

Paul was looking up at him with a face full of astonishment.

"Do you really think I did all I could to find her--the nurse, I mean?"

But John had turned his own face away, and there was no answer. Paul
tried to say something, but he could not find the words. At last in a
choked voice he murmured: "We must keep close together, brother; we are
in the same boat now."

And feeling for John's hand, he took it and held it, and they sat for
some minutes with bowed heads, as if a ghost were going by.

"There's nothing but prayer and penance and fasting left to us, is
there?"

Still John made no reply, and the broken creature began to comfort him.

"We have peace here at all events, and you wouldn't, think what
temptations come to you in the world when you've lost somebody, and there
seems to be nothing left to live for. Shall I tell you what I did? It was
in the early morning and I was standing in a doorway in Piccadilly. The
cabs and the crowds were gone, and only the nightmen were there swilling
up the dirt of the pavements with their hose-pipes and water. 'My poor
girl is lost,' I thought, 'We shall never see one another again. This
wicked city has ruined her, and our mother, who was so holy, was fond of
her when she was a little child.' And then my heart seemed to freeze up
within me... and I did it. You'll think I was mad--I went to the police
station and told them I had committed a crime. Yes, indeed, I accused
myself of murder, and began to give particulars. It was only when they
noticed my habit that I remembered the Father, and then I refused to
answer any more questions. They put me in a cell, and that was where I
spent the night, and next morning I denied everything, and they let me
go."

Then, dropping his voice to a hoarse whisper, he said: "That wasn't what
brought me back, though. It was the vow. You can't think what a