e; but deep
down in his heart he knew that he was merely trying to deceive himself.
He loved her still; and the fact that he loved her but could not marry
her added fuel to the flames of his torment.

That long night was mostly a hideous nightmare and even after he awoke
from a fitful sleep next morning, he was in a stupor. After a while,
he went out into the wintry air. It was Sunday, and the town was
comparatively quiet. He found something to eat at a lunch counter, then
he walked about briskly to try to get his blood into active circulation.
Again he went to his room.

Presently, he heard the ringing of church bells. The folks would be
going to Sunday school in Greenstreet. He saw in the vision of his mind
Uncle Zed sitting with the boys about him in his class. He saw the
teacher's lifted hand emphasize the warning against sin, and then he
seemed to hear a voice read:

"For the Son of man is come to save that which is lost.

"How think ye if a man have an hundred sheep, and one of them be gone
astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine, and goeth into the
mountains, and seeketh that which is gone astray?

"And if so be that he find it, verily, I say unto you, he rejoiceth more
of that sheep than of the ninety and nine which went not astray."

Dorian seemed to awaken with a start. Donning coat and hat, he went out
again, his steps being led down the country road toward the farmhouse.
He wanted to visit again the house where Carlia had been. Her presence
there and her suffering had hallowed it.

"Oh, how do you do?" greeted the woman, when she saw Dorian at the door.
"Come in."

Dorian entered, this time into the parlor which was warm, and where a
man sat comfortably with his Sunday paper.

"Father," said the woman, "this is the young man who was here
yesterday."

The man shook hands with Dorian and bade him draw up his chair to the
stove.

"I hope you'll excuse me for coming again," said Dorian; "but the fact
of the matter is I seemed unable to keep away. I left yesterday without
properly thanking you for what you did for my friend, Miss Carlia. I
also want to pay you a little for the expense you were put to. I haven't
much money with me, but I will send it to you after I get home, if you
will give me your name and address."

The farmer and his wife exchanged glances.

"Why, as to that," replied the man, "nothing is owing us. We liked the
girl. We think she was a good girl and had been sinned again