s immoral London of
to-day? There had been scarcely a breach of the law of Nature by women,
and not one that men were not chiefly to blame for. Men tempted them by
love of dress, of ease, of money, and of fame, to forget their proper
vocation; but every true woman came right in the end, and preferred to
the false and fictitious labour for worldly glory, a mother's silent and
unseen devotion, counting it no virtue at all. "Yes, women, mothers,
girls, in your hands lies the salvation of England. May you live in this
prospect, and may God and his ever-blessed Mother be your reward all
through this weary life and in glory everlasting!"

There was a procession with banners, cross, stars, green and blue
fleur-de-lis, but Glory saw none of it. She was kneeling with her head
down and heart choked with emotion. The next she knew the service was
over, the congregation was gone; only one old woman in widow's weeds was
left, jingling a bunch of keys.

"Has the Father gone?"

"No, ma'am; he is still in the sacristy."

"Show me to it."

At the next moment, with fluttering throat and a look of mingled love and
awe, she was standing eye to eye with John Storm in the little bare
chamber off the church.

"Glory, why do you come here?"

"I can't help it."

"But we said good-bye and parted."

"You did. I didn't. It was not so easy----"

"Easy? I told you it wouldn't be easy, my child, and it hasn't been. I
said I should suffer, and I have suffered. But I've borne it--you see
I've borne it. Don't ask me at what cost."

"Oh, oh, oh!" and she covered her face.

"Yes, the devil tortured me with love first. I was seeing you and hearing
you everywhere and in everything, Glory. But I got over that, and then he
tortured me with remorse. I had left you to the mercy of the world. It
was my duty to watch over you. I did it, too."

She glanced up quickly.

"Ah, you never knew that, but no matter! It's all over now, and I'm a
different man entirely. But why do you come and torment me again? It's
nothing to you, nothing at all. You can shake it off in a moment. That's
your nature, Glory; you can't help it. But have you no pity? You find me
here, trying to help the helpless--the brave girls who have the virtue to
be poor, and the strength to be weak, and the courage to be friendless.
Why can't you leave me alone? What am I to you? Nothing at all! You care
nothing for me--nothing whatever."

She glanced up again, and the look of love i