ain things to us--he is bound to--he shall. It
may be something comparatively trivial in the way after all--money or
prospects or something of the sort. You have not seen the letter, you
say? It is the last marriage in the world one could have desired for
her--but if she loves him, Catherine, if she loves him----'

He turned to her--appealing, remonstrating. Catherine stood pale and
rigid. Incredible that he should think it right to intermeddle--to take
the smallest step toward reversing so plain a declaration of God's will!
She could not sympathize--she would not consent. Robert watched her in
painful indecision. He knew that she thought him indifferent to her true
reason for finding some comfort even in her sister's trouble--that he
seemed to her mindful only of the passing human misery, indifferent to
the eternal risk.

They stood sadly looking at one another. Then he snatched up his hat.

'I must go,' he said in a low voice; 'it is right.'

And he went--stepping, however, with the best intentions in the world,
into a blunder.

Catherine sat painfully struggling with herself after he had left her.
Then someone came into the room--someone with pale looks and flashing
eyes. It was Agnes.

'She just let me in to tell me, and put me out again,' said the
girl--her whole, even cheerful self one flame of scorn and wrath. 'What
are such creatures made for, Catherine--why do they exist?'

Meanwhile, Robert had trudged off through the frosty morning streets
to Langham's lodgings. His mood was very hot by the time he reached
his destination, and he climbed the staircase to Langham's room in some
excitement. When he tried to open the door after the answer to his knock
biding him enter, he found something barring the way. 'Wait a little,'
said the voice inside, 'I will move the case.'

With difficulty the obstacle was removed and the door opened. Seeing his
visitor, Langham stood for a moment in sombre astonishment. The room was
littered with books and packing-cases with which he had been busy.

'Come in,' he said, not offering to shake hands.

Robert shut the door, and, picking his way among the books, stood
leaning on the back of the chair Langham pointed out to him. Langham
paused opposite to him, his waving jet-black hair falling forward
over the marble-pale face which had been Robert's young ideal of manly
beauty.

The two men were only six years distant in age, but so strong is old
association, that Robert's fe