But the lawyer, with a sudden change of manner, had turned his eyes to
the portrait; and did not seem to hear the exclamation.

"I hope you will not think hard of me, Mr. Rushton," said Verty; "you
have been very good to me, and I would not do anything to offend you
or give you pain."

No answer was vouchsafed to this speech either. The rough lawyer,
with more and more change in his expression, was gazing at the fresh
portrait, the curtain of which Verty had thrown over one of the upper
corners of the frame.

Verty followed the look of Mr. Rushton; and gazed upon the picture.

"It is very lovely," he said, softly; "I never saw a sweeter face."

The lawyer's breast heaved.

"And what ringlets--I believe they call 'em," continued Verty,
absorbed in contemplating the portrait;--"I love the pretty little
thing already, sir."

Mr. Rushton sat down in the chair, which Verty had abandoned, and
covered his face.

"Did you know her?--but oh, I forgot!--how wrong in me!" murmured
Verty; "I did not think that she might be--Mr. Rushton--forgive my--"

The lawyer, with his face still covered, motioned toward the door.

"Must I go, sir?"

"Yes--go," came from the lips which uttered a groan--a groan of such
anguish, that Verty almost groaned in unison.

And murmuring "Anna! Anna!" the lawyer shook.

The young man went toward the door. As he opened it, he heard an
exclamation behind him.

He turned his head.

"What's this!" cried the lawyer, in a tone between a growl and a sob.

"What, sir?"

"This paper."

"Sir?"

"This paper with--with--'Trust in God' on it; did you write it?"

"I--I--must--yes--I suppose I did, sir," stammered Verty, almost
alarmed by the tone of his interlocutor.

"What did you mean?"

"Nothing, sir!"

"You had the boldness to write this canting--hypocritical--"

"Oh, Mr. Rushton!"

"You wrote it?"

"Yes, sir; and it is right, though I did'nt mean to write it--or know
it."

"Very grand!"

"Sir?"

"You bring your wretched--"

"Oh, I did'nt know I wrote it even, sir! But indeed that is not right,
sir. All of us ought to trust in God, however great our afflictions
are, sir."

"Go!" cried the lawyer, rising with a furious gesture--"away, sir!
Preach not to me--you may be right--but take your sermons elsewhere.
Look there, sir! at that portrait!--look at me now, a broken
man--think that--but this is folly! Leave me to myself!"

And strangling a passionate sob, the lawyer sa