ntervened. Though she did not quite comprehend the nature
of this new trouble which appeared so powerfully to move him, she could
not listen to such words without remonstrance.

'It is not right to speak so, Walter, and I will not listen to it.
Whatever others may do, though it may grieve and cut you to the heart,
it cannot take away your honour or integrity, always remember that.'

'Yes, it can,' he said impetuously. 'That kind of disgrace hangs on a
man all his days. He has to bear the sins of others. That is where the
injustice comes in. The innocent must suffer for and with the guilty
always. There is no escape.'

Gladys sighed, and her face became pale and weary-looking. Never had
life appeared so hard, so full of pain and care. Looking at the face of
Walter, which she had always thought so noble and so good,--the index to
a soul striving, though sometimes but feebly, yet striving always after
what was highest and best,--looking at his face then, and seeing it so
shadowed by the bitterness of his lot, her own simple faith for the
moment seemed to fail.

'You saw him, then, this morning, and I hope you admired him,' said
Walter, with harsh scorn. 'Reeking with drink, speaking thick through it
at ten o'clock in the morning! What chance has a fellow with a father
like that? Ten to one, I go over to drink myself one of these days.
Well, I might do worse. It drowns care, they say, and I know it destroys
feelings, which, from my experience, seem only given for our torture.'

Gladys gave a sob, and turned aside to the safe. That sound recalled
Walter to himself, and in a moment his mood changed. His eyes melted
into tenderness as he looked upon the pale, slight girl, whom his words
in some sad way had wounded.

'Forgive me. I don't know what I am saying; but I had no right to vex
you, the only angel I know in this whole city of Glasgow.'

His extravagant speech provoked a smile on her face, and she turned her
head from where she knelt before the safe, and lifted her large earnest
eyes to his.

'How you talk! You must learn to control yourself a little more. It is
self-control that makes a man,' she said quietly. 'I do not know how to
comfort you, Walter, in this trouble, which seems so much heavier than
even I think; but in the end it will be for good. Everything is, you
know, to them that love God.'

She was so familiar with Scripture, and depended so entirely on it for
comfort and strength, that her words carr