said, "I am a disgraced and ruined man."

"Rene, what dost thou mean? Disgraced, ruined!"

He poured out this oft-repeated story of Avignon, the scene on the
Bristol road, the despatch, and last, his talk with Randolph and his
resignation.

"And this," she said, "was what some day I was to hear. It is terrible,
but--ruined--oh, that thou art not. Think of the many who love thee! And
disgraced? Thou art Rene de Courval."

"Yes; but, Pearl, dear Pearl, this ends my joy. How can I ask you to
marry a man in my position?"

For a moment she said no word. Then she kissed him. "There is my answer,
Rene."

"No, no. It is over. I cannot. As a gentleman, I cannot."

Again the wholesome discipline of Friends came to her assistance. It was
a serious young face she saw. He it was who was weak, and she strong.

"Trouble comes to all of us in life, Rene. I could not expect always to
escape. It has come to us in the morning of our love. Let us meet it
together. It is a terrible story, this. How can I, an inexperienced
girl, know how to regard it? I am sure thou hast done what was right in
thine own eyes. My mother will say thou shouldst have left it to God's
justice. I do not know. I am not sure. I suppose it is because I so love
thee that I do not know. We shall never speak of it again, never. It is
the consequences we--yes, we--have to deal with."

"There is no way to deal with them." He was in resourceless despair.

"No, no. Friend Schmidt will return. He is sure to come, and this will
all be set right. Dost thou remember how the blessed waters washed away
thy care? Is not love as surely good?"

"Oh, yes; but this is different. That was a trifle."

"No; it is the waiting here for Friend Schmidt that troubles me. What is
there but to wait? Thou art eager to do something; that is the man's
way, and the other is the woman's way. Take thy daily swim, ride, sail;
the body will help the soul. It will all come right; but not marry me!
Then, Rene de Courval, I shall marry thee."

A divine hopefulness was in her words, and for the first time he knew
what a firm and noble nature had been given the woman at his side, what
power to trust, what tenderness, what common sense, and, too, what
insight; for he knew she was right. The contrast to his mother was
strange, and in a way distressing.

"I must think it over," he said.

"Thou wilt do no such thing. Thou, indeed! As if it were thy business
alone! I am a partner thou wilt plea