and papers, and then stood looking at
the girl's face. "You couldn't explain it to her, I suppose?" he
asked.

"No," replied the son. "No; she adores her father; to her he is
perfect. And I don't blame her, for he is good--you can't know how
good, to her." Again they stood in silence. The son looked up from the
picture and said, "And you know, father, what the world would think of
me--a spy, an informer--an ingrate?"

The old man did not reply, and the son shook his head and his face
twitched with the struggle that was in him. Suddenly the father walked
to the son and cried: "And yet you must, Neal Ward--you must. Is
there any confidence in God's world so sacred as your duty to mankind?
Is there any tie, even that of your wife, so sacred as that which
binds you to humanity? I left your mother, my sweetheart, and went out
to fight, with the chance of never seeing her again. I went out and
left her for the same country that is calling you now, Neal!" The boy
looked up with agony on his face. The father paused a moment and then
went on: "Your soul is your soul--not John Barclay's, my boy--not
Jeanette Barclay's--but yours--yours, Neal, to blight or to cherish,
as you will." A moment later he added, "Don't you see, son--don't you
see, Neal?" The son shook his head and looked down, and did not
answer. The father put his arm about the son. "Boy, boy," he cried,
"boy, you've got a a man's load on you now--a man's load. To-morrow
you can run away like a coward; you can dodge and lie like a thief, or
you can tell the simple truth, as it is asked of you, like a man--the
simple truth like a man, Neal."

"Yes, I know, father--I see it all--but it is so hard--for her
sake, father."

The old man was silent, while the kitchen clock ticked away a minute
and then another and a third. Then he took his arm away from his son,
and grasped the boy's hand. "Oh, little boy--little boy," he cried,
"can't I make you see that the same God who has put this trial upon
you will see you through it, and that if you fail in this trial, your
soul will be crippled for life, and that no matter what you get in
return for your soul--you will lose in the bargain? Can't you see it,
Nealie--can't you see it? All my life I have been trying to live that
way, and I have tried to make you see it--so that you would be ready
for some trial like this."

The son rose, and the two men stood side by side, clasping hands. The
boy suddenly tore himself loose, and