beloved young friend seemed to grow more settled and contented,
Eliphalet Hodges waxed more buoyant in the joy of his hale old age, and
his wife, all her ambitions satisfied, grew more primly genial every
day.

Brent found his congregation increasing, and heard himself spoken of as
a popular preacher. Under these circumstances, it would seem that there
was nothing to be desired to make him happy. But he was not so, though
he kept an unruffled countenance. He felt the repression that his
position put upon him. He prayed that with time it might pass off, but
this prayer was not answered. There were times when, within his secret
closet, the contemplation of the dead level of his life, as it spread
out before him, drove him almost to madness.

The bitterness in his heart against his father had not abated one jot,
and whenever these spasms of discontent would seize him he was wont to
tell himself, "I am fighting old Tom Brent now, and I must conquer him."

Thus nearly a year passed away, and he was beginning to think of asking
Elizabeth to name the day. He had his eye upon a pretty little nest of a
house, sufficiently remote from her father's, and he was looking
forward to settling quietly down in a home of his own.

It was about this time that, as he sat alone one evening in the little
chamber which was his study and bedroom in one, Mr. Simpson entered and
opened conversation with him.

For some time a rumour which did violence to the good name of Sophy
Davis had been filtering through the community. But it had only
filtered, until the girl's disappearance a day or two before had allowed
the gossips to talk openly, and great was the talk. The young minister
had looked on and listened in silence. He had always known and liked
Sophy, and if what the gossips said of her was true, he pitied the girl.

On this particular evening it was plain that Mr. Simpson had come to
talk about the affair. After some preliminary remarks, he said, "You
have a great chance, dear Brother Brent, for giving the devil in this
particular part of the moral vineyard a hard blow."

"I don't clearly see why now, more than before," returned Brent.

"Because you are furnished with a living example of the fruits of evil:
don't you see?"

"If there is such an example furnished, the people will see it for
themselves, and I should be doing a thankless task to point it out to
them. I would rather show people the beauty of good than the ugliness of
e