c, and had silently determined not to ask them to prolong
their stay at Ion.

The supper-bell rang as Edward and Zoe descended the stairs together, and
they obeyed its summons without going into the drawing-room.

Violet's place at the table was vacant as well as that of Max, and Lulu
and Gracie bore the traces of tears about their eyes.

These things reminded Zoe of Max's trouble, forgotten for a time in her
own, and she thought pityingly of him in his imprisonment, wondered if he
would be put upon prison fare, and determined to find out, and if he were,
to try to procure him something better.

She made an errand to her own rooms soon after leaving the table, went to
his door and knocked softly.

"Who's there?" he asked in a voice half choked with sobs.

"It is I, Maxie," she said in an undertone at the keyhole, "Zoe, you know.
I want to say I'm ever so sorry for you, and always ready to do anything I
can to help you."

"Thank you," he said, "but I mustn't see anybody, so can't open the door;
and, indeed," with a heavy sob, "I'm not fit company for you or any of
the rest."

"Yes, you are, you're as good as I am. But why can't you open the door?
are you locked in?"

"No; but--papa said I--I must stay by myself for a week if--if I did what
I have done to-day. So please don't stay any longer, though it was ever so
good in you to come."

"Good-by, then," and she moved away.

CHAPTER XIX.

"High minds of native pride and force
Most deeply feel thy pangs, remorse!
Fear of their scourge mean villains have;
Thou art the torture of the brave."
--Scott.

Max sat before his writing-table, his folded arms upon it, and his face
hidden upon them. He was in sore distress of mind. How he had fallen
before temptation! into what depths of disgrace and sin! sin that in olden
times would have been punished with death, even as the horrible crime of
murder, and that must still be as hateful as ever in the sight of an
unchangeable God.

And not only that sin, of which he had thought he had so truly and deeply
repented, but another which he had always been taught was a very low and
degrading vice. Oh, could there be forgiveness for him?

And how would his dear honored father feel when the sad story should reach
his ears? would it indeed break his heart as Grandpa Dinsmore had said?
The boy's own heart was overwhelmed with grief, dismay, and remorse as he
asked himse