o an empty one, and some of the holy fury of the
converters who used to fell oaks and shatter idols came over her.
Raising her voice till it sounded almost triumphant she cried, "Throw
it away, so that it breaks on the floor like the other bottle! Then the
horrid gin will run between the boards down into the earth, down into
hell, where it belongs. The evil thing will have gone, and we, father,
we'll pray and give thanks."

"Listen!" She fell on her knees beside him and piously raised her
hands. "Do you hear? The angels in heaven, with your guardian angel at
their head, are shouting, 'Hallelujah'."

Mr. Tiralla mumbled something unintelligible.

Rosa did not hear it; she heard nothing more, for her soul had taken
wings and flown out of the stifling room. God had heard her, the Lord
was with her. The joy she felt almost overpowered her; her cheeks were
wet with the tears of sweet exhaustion that comes when every nerve has
been strained. What were all the joys of the world compared to the joy
of saving her father and of delivering his soul from perdition? She
buried her face in her hands, and a tremor passed over her.

[Pg 301]

There was silence in the room, but the storm was whistling and howling
outside.

Mr. Tiralla had seized the bottle, but not to hurl it on the ground as
Rosa had bidden him; he clasped it nervously to his breast, as if it
were a priceless treasure that must be taken care of.

So they even wanted to rob him of that, the last thing he possessed? He
would not let them take it from him, he would rather die. "_Psia
krew!_" He swore so loudly that he startled his daughter.

Awakened out of her trance of bliss, Rosa saw with horror that her
father was holding the bottle to his lips and drinking, drinking,
hiccoughing and groaning, until he could drink no more, until the gin
ran out again at the corners of his mouth. He sighed when he had to
leave off; but he did not put the bottle on the table again, he hid it
under his jersey.

"Go--go, girl," he growled angrily, and glared at her with malevolent
eyes. "What do you want from me? My precious bottle"--he patted the
place where he had hidden it--"you're the best friend I've got now.
Come, my love, don't cry," he said, pinching Rosa's cheek as she
sobbed. His spirits had improved since he knew the bottle was safe.

"My darling girl,
Why are you weeping?"

he croaked huskily. Then he grinned. His Rosa would s