t. If love to him can lead your heart to such
forgiveness as this, what must his forgiveness be? Ruth, you have saved
my soul; I will give up the struggle; I have tried to fight it out; I
have tried to say that I could not; for my own sake, and for my own
name, it seemed impossible. Then when I got beyond that, and felt that
for myself, if I could have rest in the love of Christ, and could feel
that he forgave me, I cared for nothing else. Then I said, 'I can not do
this, for my child's sake; I can never plunge her into this depth of sin
and shame.' Then, my daughter, there came to me a message from God, and
of all those that _could_ come to a miserable man like me, it was this:
'He that loveth son or daughter more than me, is not worthy of me.' Then
I saw that I must be willing even to lose your love, to make you despise
me; and that was the bitterest cup of all. But, thank God, he has spared
me this. God bless you, my daughter."

There was something almost terrible to Ruth, in seeing her cold, calm
father so moved. She had never realized what awfully solemn things
_tears_ were till she saw them on her father's cheeks, and felt them
falling hot on her head, from eyes so unused to weeping. The kisses she
gave him were very soft and clinging--full of tender, soothing touches.
Then father and daughter knelt together, and the long, long struggle
with sin and pride and _silence_ was concluded.

Do you think this was a lasting victory for Ruth Erskine? You do not
understand the power of "that old serpent, the Devil," if you can not
think how he came to her again and again in the silence of her own room,
even into the midst of her rejoicings over the newly-washed soul, even
while the joy in heaven among the angels was still ringing out over her
father, came whispering to her heart to say:

"Oh, I can't, I can't. Think of it! The Erskines! How _can_ we endure
it? Is it _possible_ that we must? Perhaps the woman would rather live
as she is."

As if _that_ had anything to do with the question of right and wrong!
The very next instant Ruth curled her lip sneeringly over her own folly.
She never forgot that night, nor how the conflict waged. She tried to
imagine herself saying "mother" to one who really had a nominal right to
the title. Not that it was an unfamiliar word to her. The old aunt who
had occupied the mother's place in the household since Ruth was a wee
creature of two years, she had learned almost from the instincts