hey shook his sick heart with an
agony of trembling hatred.

He did not hate his brother--no, never that--and there was the
poignant pain of it. The bond of affection rooted in his very flesh,
held firm and taut, stretched to the point of anguish, and vibrating
in shrill notes of sorrow as the hammer of conviction struck it. He
could not cast his brother out of his inmost heart, blot his name from
the book of remembrance, cease to hope that the infinite mercy might
some day lay hold upon him before it was too late.

But the things for which that brother stood in the world--the
ungodliness, the vainglory, the material glitter and the spiritual
darkness--these things the minister was bound to hate; and the more he
hated the more he feared and trembled. The intensity of this fear
seemed for the time to blot out all other feelings. The coming of such
a man, with all his attractions, with the glamour of his success, with
the odours and enchantments of the world about him, was an
incalculable peril. The pastor agonised for his flock, the father for
his little ones. It seemed as if he saw a tiger with glittering eyes
creeping near and crouching for a spring. It seemed as if a serpent,
with bright colours coiled and fatal head poised, were waiting in the
midst of the children for one of them to put out a hand to touch it.
Which would it be? Perhaps all of them would be fascinated. They were
so eager, so innocent, so full of life. How could he guard them in a
peril so subtle and so terrible?

He had done all that he could for them, but perhaps it was not enough.
He felt his weakness, his helpless impotence. They would slip away
from him and be lost--perhaps forever. Already his sick heart saw them
charmed, bewildered, poisoned, perishing in ways where his imagination
shuddered to follow them.

The torture of his love and terror crushed him. He sank to his knees
beside the ink-stained wooden table on the threadbare carpet and
buried his face in his arms. All of his soul was compressed into a
single agony of prayer.

He prayed that this bitter trial might not come upon him, that this
great peril might not approach his children. He prayed that the
visitation which he dreaded might be averted by almighty power. He
prayed that God would prevent his brother from coming, and keep the
home in unbroken purity and peace, holy and undefiled.

From this strange wrestling in spirit he rose benumbed, yet calmed, as
one who feels that