e as
yours--the better. When I think of my own life there, the first
miserable years, and all the evil I have seen since--. Well, there is
no use in going over all that. But, Harry, it would break your sister's
heart, were you to change into a hard, selfish, worldly man, like the
rest of us."

There was nothing Harry could say to this.

"So many fail in the struggle--so many are changed or ruined. And, dear
lad, you have one temptation that never was a temptation to me. Don't
be angry, Harry," for Harry started and grew red. "Even if that is not
to be feared for you, there is enough besides to make you hesitate. I
have known and proved the world. What we call success in life, is not
worth one approving smile from your sister's lips. And if you should
fall, and be trodden down, how should I ever answer to her?"

He walked up and down the room two or three times.

"Don't go, Harry." For Harry had risen as though he thought the
interview was at on end. "You said, just now, that you must decide for
yourself, and you shall do so. But, consider well, and consult your
brother and sister. As for the interests of the firm, I have no fear."

"I may consider it settled then," said Harry, huskily. "Arthur was
always of opinion that I should go, and Graeme is willing now. And the
sooner the better, I suppose?"

"The sooner the better for us. But there is time enough. Do not be
hasty in deciding."

"I have decided already, I thank you, sir--" He hesitated, hardly
knowing what to say more.

"I hope it will prove that you will have good reason to thank me.
Remember, Harry, whatever comes out of this, you left us with my full
and entire confidence. I do not believe I shall have cause to regret
it, or that you will fail me or disappoint me."

Harry grasped the hand held out to him without a word, but inwardly he
vowed, that come what might, the confidence so generously expressed
should never, for good cause, be withdrawn.

And so the decision was made. After this the preparations did not
occupy a long time. The second day found Harry ready for departure.

"Graeme," said Harry, "I cannot be content to take away with me such a
melancholy remembrance of your face. I shall begin to think you are not
willing that I should go after all."

"You need not think so, Harry. I am sure it is best since you are
determined. But I cannot but look melancholy at the necessity. You
would not have me look joyful, when