"I must prevent it! Is that what you have kept me out of my bed to say? Upon my word, Rose, you are unreasonable. Pray tell me how I am to keep my father from doing what he wishes." "Oh! George, you are very clever, and you can find a way when I--I can't, although I'd give all the world to. George, George! he must not see Mr Chillingfleet, and this is the reason." Then I told my story. I told it quite calmly and without any outward show of shame. I found as I talked that I had grown accustomed to this tragedy, that the first edge of its agony was blunted to me. I was not prepared, however, for the effect it had on my brother. As my story proceeded I saw all the colour leave George's large, healthily-tinted face; drops of perspiration stood on his forehead. He took out his handkerchief and wiped the moisture from his lips and brow. When I ceased speaking he sank down on the nearest chair. I had expected a perfect storm of angry and bitter words. George did not utter one. "Well?" I could not help saying at last. "Well," he answered, "there's an end of everything, that's all. I meant to ask an honest girl with a nice little bit of money to be my wife. I thought I'd ask her next Sunday. I love her, too, 'tisn't on account of the money; that's at an end. She shan't ever say she married the brother of a thief!" "Oh! George, don't be too hard on him. He was sorely tempted, and he is so young." "Am I hard on him, Rose? Am I saying anything?" "George, dear brother, I wish I could help you." "You can't; I'm off to bed now." "George, you will keep this from my father?" "Rather!" "You will manage that he shall not see Mr Chillingfleet?" "I will manage that he never hears the story you have told me to-night. Good-night, Rose." "Kiss me, George. Oh! George, I'm bitterly sorry for you." I ran after him and flung my arms round his neck, and gave him what we used in the old childish days to call a bear's hug. When I pressed my lips to his cheek I saw tears in his eyes. CHAPTER TWELVE. MY BROTHER'S SIN. When George left my room I sat down near my dressing-table, and to comfort myself after all the worries of the day, took out my ruby ring to feast my eyes on its beauty. I had a vision of George's face with the queer pallor on it. I heard again his voice as he spoke of the girl who had a little money, and whom he loved--the girl, however, who would never now be asked to be his wife. My brother George was a hard man, but he was righteous, he was honourable. I respected him for his words; and at that moment I pitied the girl who would lose him because of Jack's sin. "Oh, Jack, Jack, what have you done to us all?" I cried aloud. How pitiable is weakness; how mean is cowardice; and of all things, how dreadful is that _moral_ cowardice which leads men into crooked ways. Oh, Jack, if only you had told us about Hetty, and not stooped to theft for her sake.