h afterwards, and had far more effect upon him
than ever she imagined.

CHAPTER XVI

Bringing Bad Tidings

'A man should never be ashamed to own he has been in the wrong, which
is but saying, in other words, that he is wiser to-day than he was
yesterday.'--_Pope._

It was towards the end of February that old Nannie sat by her fire in
the peaceful almshouse in which she had taken shelter. Rain was
falling fast, and when she heard a knock at her door, she hardly turned
in her chair, for she thought it could be only one of her neighbours
come for a chat.

When the new-comer came silently forward and stood in front of her,
Nannie looked up with a gasp and a cry.

'Miss Gwen! My dear Miss Gwen, is it you? Where do you come from?
And oh, how ill you look!'

Gwen bent over the old woman and kissed her; then she took a seat by
her and gave a hard little laugh.

'Oh no, I am not ill. I wish I could be--at least, I am almost coward
enough to wish it. I only landed early this morning in the London
Docks. I have come from California, Nannie. Aren't you glad to see
me?'

Gwen was clad in a plain dark blue serge and sailor hat, but somehow
had not her habitual neat appearance. Her face was wan and white, she
seemed to have aged ten years, and her once sparkling eyes were now dim
and worn-looking.

'Just off a voyage,' murmured Nannie, putting on her spectacles and
peering anxiously into her face. 'Ay, my dear, surely them foreign
parts don't bring such change and misery to all the folks who venture
out?'

Gwen laughed again.

'Every one, I hope, has not had my experience,' she said. 'If I may
quote from your favourite book, Nannie, I can say truly, "I went out
full, and have been brought home again empty!"'

'"The Lord hath brought me home again empty,"' corrected Nannie.

Then Gwen leant forward, and taking Nannie's two hands in hers, she
said in a hard, strained voice:

'Nannie, I have come to you because I am desperate, and I thought
perhaps you would give me courage to face them at home. I have never
had such a hard task set me in my life; but I deserve it, and I am not
going to flinch from my duty. I have ruined four people's lives, my
own included!'

She strangled a dry sob in her throat, then went on,--grasping the
withered hands in hers, as a drowning man might a rope,--'Nannie, do
you remember my verse you gave me this time last year?'

'Ay, Miss Gwen, my dear, surely, and many's