ed.

"By the way," he said, "I was nearly forgetting that I have a little
note for you from Mary, which came to-day in a letter to myself. Here
it is."

The note was brief and constrained in its tone, though kind. It was as
follows:--

"DEAR FRANK,--I wrote to you by the last mail, and just send a few
lines now in Hubert's letter. I can scarce tell how to write. I do
not know whether to hope or fear, whether I dare venture to believe
that I shall ever see you again with joy. O Frank, I have dreadful
misgivings. Miserable rumours come across the sea to make all our
hearts sick. Will you not at once and for ever renounce what has been
the occasion of sin and disgrace to yourself and of misery to us both?
Will you not go to the Strong for strength, and cast yourself at once
on him? I cannot write more now, for I am almost broken-hearted. I
shall not cease to pray for you.--Yours, MARY OLIPHANT."

Frank hastily thrust the note into his pocket after reading it, and
hurried home. There he shut-to his door, and flung himself on his
knees. He prayed to be forgiven his sin, and that he might live a
steady and sober life for the time to come. He rose up comforted and
satisfied. He felt he had done a duty. He was resolved to become a
water-drinker, to pay no more visits to the man at the cottage, and to
keep no intoxicating drinks in his house. Mary's letter had touched him
to the quick; he saw how nearly he had lost her; he felt that the stand
must be made now or never. But yet he had in no way pledged himself to
total abstinence. True, he had prayed to be kept sober; but had his
heart fully and sincerely desired what his lips had prayed for? Alas,
it is to be feared not; for it is no difficult thing to delude ourselves
in the matter of prayer. It is easy, when we have sinned, and before
the next strong temptation to the same sin presents itself, to pray
against repeating it, and so to give a sop to our conscience, without
having either the heart's desire or the honest resolve to abstain from
that sin. And it is equally easy to pray that we may not fall into a
sin, and to have a sort of half sincere desire to that effect; and yet,
at the same time, to be quite unwilling to avoid those steps which,
though they are not themselves the sin, yet almost of necessity and
inevitably lead to it. So it was with poor Frank, but he did not think
so; on the contrary, he was now quite persuaded that