“A most hopeful sign, my dear sir,” said the little clergyman, warming to Brant as most good people did, without any reason that could be set in words. “It is not often that we are given to see such practical proofs of repentance.” Being an honest man in the better sense of the word, Brant made haste to remove the false impression: “Don’t misunderstand me. I am not at all sure that I am repentant in your meaning of the word; in fact, I am quite sure I am not. I drank the cup of evil living to the dregs, and the dregs nauseated me--that is all.” “But that is a very good beginning--very good, indeed,” asserted the clergyman benignly. “Go on as you have begun, and we shall see better things; I am quite sure of that.” Brant remembered his desperate plunge of less than forty-eight hours before, and smiled. “It is very evident that you haven’t sounded all the depths of wickedness in the human heart, Mr. Crosswell, and perhaps it is just as well for us sinners that you haven’t. We are a sorrier lot than you have any idea of, I fancy.” “We are all ‘vile earth’ when it comes to that, Mr. Brant; but I shall continue to consider your case as a most hopeful one.” Then, as Brant found his hat, “Must you go? Come and see me often. I want to know more of you.” Brant bowed himself out and went his way musing. As he approached the side gate giving upon the street, a carriage drew up to the curb and a lady descended therefrom. He had opened the gate for her and lifted his hat before he saw that it was Mrs. Langford; but in any case he could have done no less. Notwithstanding, her chilling stare cut him to the quick, and he went back to his office with the comfortable feeling of elation engendered by the meeting with Dorothy and the act of restitution somewhat dashed by the chance encounter. Meanwhile Mrs. Langford had entered the study and made known her errand, which was to call for Dorothy. “She said she wouldn’t wait,” explained the clergyman. “Mr. Brant was here, waiting to see me about a matter which was--ah--er--a matter which I presume Miss Dorothy knew to be private, and so she kindly made room for him.” “Mr. Brant!” Mrs. Langford’s frown was quite portentous. “Do you mean to say they were here together, Mr. Crosswell?” “Why, yes; that is, I--er--I found them both here when I came in.” Then, as the lines of displeasure deepened in the lady’s brow, he tried to set himself right by adding: “A most excellent young man, Mrs. Langford; I am glad to know that he is a friend of the family.” “He is not,” she rejoined with aggressive emphasis. “He was never more than a calling acquaintance, and he is not even that at present. I have forbidden him the house.” “Forbidden him the house?” echoed the good man in unfeigned astonishment. “May I--may I ask your reason?” “You may; and I will tell you, if you will tell me what he was doing here.”