nly mean that he was willing _to sin_, and be
punished, provided Israel might live. It was lawful then to _tell a lie
or perpetrate any evil deed_ in order to protect his child.' Michael
therefore took his resolution. He hinted to Robert that Susan's history
was besmirched with shame. He left on his desk--where he knew Robert
would see it--a fragment of an old letter referring to the downfall of
another girl named Susan. Michael knew that he was telling and acting a
lie, a terrible and unpardonable lie. He firmly believed that, in
telling that dreadful lie, he was damning his soul to all eternity. But
in damning his own soul--so he thought--he was saving his son's. And
that, after all, was the lesson that Paul had taught him.

The rest of the story does not immediately concern us. Robert, on seeing
the documentary proof of Susan's shame, ran away from home. Michael,
overwhelmed with wretchedness, attempted to drown himself in the swirl
at the mouth of the river. Of what value was life to him, now that his
soul was everlastingly lost? He awoke to find himself on the bank, with
Susan bending over him and kissing him. He soon discovered that there
was more sense in Susan's head, and more grace in her heart, than he had
for one moment imagined. He set out after his son; found him; and died
in making his great and humiliating confession. He had meant well, but
he had misunderstood. He had misunderstood Paul.

II

Michael made two mistakes, and they were grave and tragic and fatal
mistakes.

_He thought that good fruit could be produced from an evil tree._ There
are times when it looks possible. But it is always an illusion. When I
see Michael Trevanion in the hour of his great temptation, I wish I
could introduce him to Jeanie Deans. For, in _The Heart of Midlothian_,
Sir Walter Scott has outlined a very similar situation. Poor Jeanie was
tempted to save her wayward sister by a lie. It was a very little lie, a
mere glossing over of the truth. The slightest deviation from actual
veracity, and her sister's life, which was dearer to her than her own,
would be saved from the scaffold, and her family honor would be
vindicated. But Jeanie could not, and would not, believe that there
could be salvation in a lie. With her gentle heart reproaching her, but
with her conscience applauding her, she told the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth. And then she set out for London. Along the
great white road she trudged, u