"Yes; I said that to him yesterday, but he is torn by misgivings. This church is his last hold on spiritual life. The instant he gives it up that girl will marry him. I dread to see him rise in the pulpit now. I fear he will cry out that he is a hypocrite." "That would be honest." "Yes, yes, but he thinks of the young trembling souls and hesitates. Many have entered the church truly saved by his faithful ministrations; should he proclaim himself unsaved, they will say, 'Then where are we?'" "What do you advise, then?" "He is going away, he says that himself, but if we could only get him off quietly. If some one could go with him. He is not fit to be alone. He walks his floor at night and groans--" "I will tell Justin at once. This must be attended to," said Derrice. "I know he will find a way out. Now what can I do to help you? I have finished these stockings. Ah, there is the baby crying. I will go take him up," and she ran up-stairs. Derrice was alone with her husband at dinnertime. In rather deeper gravity than usual he watched her presiding in his mother's place. How dear that mother was to him in spite of her failings, and he hurriedly began a conversation in order to forget the tug at his heart-strings. Derrice over dessert told him what Mrs. Negus had said. "I am not surprised," he remarked. "I would have helped him before, if I had had any assurance that I would have been of assistance. Now the time has come," and instead of going to the bank he went to the house next door. Mr. Huntington was just going out, but on seeing Justin he turned back and preceded him to his study. Then he closed the door and confronted him. His face was worn and there were dark circles under his eyes. He had the appearance of a man on the verge of a serious illness, and yet Justin had never before been so struck by his remarkable physical beauty. Possibly this effect was aided by his involuntary pathos of expression. He had no idea that he was appealing to his junior deacon, that the look in his fine brown eyes was like that of an intelligent and beautiful dumb creature about to receive a blow. Justin saw it and was profoundly touched. This was no time for exhortation nor for reproof, but it certainly was a time for consolation from man to man. Bernal Huntington had had feminine sympathy. He now craved recognition from a member of his own sex. "I suppose you have come from the church," he said. Justin shook his head. "I have expected you for some time," said Mr. Huntington, wearily, "you who ought to be pastor, and I your henchman. It is to you the people now go for spiritual help. I am not jealous, I assure you. Come,--you have some message from your brother deacons. They wish me to resign."