nion. By Jove, madame, you must
somehow, through your personality and God knows what besides, have got a
mighty hold on his heart, in the days when you loved him, or he wouldn't
have stood this dog's life, this punishment too harsh for human nature to
bear. Good Lord, how were you brought up? Evidently not as a Christian."

"My father was a clergyman," said Annesley.

"There are many clergymen who have got as far from the light as the moon
from the earth. I know more about Christianity myself than some of those
narrow men with their 'cold Christs and tangled Trinities'! That is, I
know all this on principle. I don't practise what I know, but that's my
affair. Did Don ever excuse himself by mentioning the influence I brought
to bear on him when he was almost a boy?"

"No," breathed Annesley. "He didn't excuse himself at all except to tell
me about his father and mother, and a vow he'd made to revenge them on
society."

"It was like him not to whine for your forgiveness."

"He would never whine," the girl agreed. But she remembered that night of
confession when on his knees he had begged her to forgive, to grant him
another chance, and she had refused. He had never asked again. And he had
struggled alone for redemption.

"I haven't forgotten some early teachings which impressed me," said Paul
Van Vreck. "Christ made a remark about forgiving till seventy times
seven. Did you forgive Donaldson four hundred and eighty-nine times, and
draw the line at the four hundred and ninetieth?"

"No, I never had anything to forgive him--till that one thing came out.
But it was a very big thing. Too big!"

"_Too_ big, eh? There was another saying of Christ's about those without
sin throwing the first stone. Of course I'm sure _you_ were without sin.
But you look as if you might have had a heart--once."

"Oh, I had, I had!" Tears streamed down Annesley's pale face, and she did
not wipe them away. "It's dead now I think."

"Think again. Think of what the man is--what he's proved himself to be.
He's twice as good now as one of your best saints of the Church. He's
purified by fire. You've got the face of an angel, Mrs. Donaldson, but in
my opinion you're a wicked woman unworthy of the love you've inspired."

"You speak to me cruelly," the girl said through her tears. "I've been
very unhappy!"

"Not as unhappy as you've made Don by _your_ cruelty. Good heavens, these
tender girls can be more cruel when they set about punishing us