the mantel. The man resumed with
something like impressiveness:

"When you last held that," said he, slowly, balancing the glove in his
hand, "I was a wicked man with bad intentions through and through. When
I first held it I became an honest man, with good intentions."

A burning blush of shame covered Miss Eunice's face and neck.

"An' as I kep' it my intentions went on improvin' and improvin', till I
made up my mind to behave myself in future, forever. Do you
understand?--forever. No backslidin', no hitchin', no slippin'-up. I
take occasion to say, miss, that I was beset time and again; that the
instant I set my foot outside them prison-gates, over there, my old
chums got round me; but I shook my head. 'No,' says I, 'I won't go back
on the glove.'"

Miss Eunice hung her head. The two had exchanged places, she thought;
she was the criminal and he the judge.

"An' what is more," continued he, with the same weight in his tone, "I
not only kep' sight of the glove, but I kep' sight of the generous
sperrit that gave it. I didn't let _that_ go. I never forgot what you
meant. I knowed--I knowed," repeated he, lifting his forefinger--"I
knowed a time would come when there wouldn't be any enthoosiasm, any
'hurrah,' and then perhaps you'd be sorry you was so kind to me; an' the
time did come."

Miss Eunice buried her face in her hands and wept aloud.

"But did I quit the glove? No, mum. I held on to it. It was what I
fought by. I wasn't going to give it up, because it was asked for. All
the police-officers in the city couldn't have took it from me. I put it
deep into my pocket, and I walked out. It was differcult, miss. But I
come through. The glove did it. It helped me stand out against
temptation when it was strong. If I looked at it, I remembered that once
there was a pure heart that pitied me. It cheered me up. After a while I
kinder got out of the mud. Then I got work. The glove again. Then a girl
that knowed me before I took to bad ways married me, and no questions
asked. Then I just took the glove into a dark corner and blessed it."

Miss Eunice was belittled.

A noise was heard in the hallway. Miss Eunice's father and the policeman
were going away.

The awkwardness of the succeeding silence was relieved by the moving of
the man and the woman They had done their errand, and were going.

Said Miss Eunice, with the faint idea of making a practical apology to
her visitor, "I shall go to the prison once a week