Deeply agitated, the deacon wrung his pastor's hand, abruptly leaving him with the broken words: "Forgive me--I--didn't mean--didn't know--you've won me over at last." "What is the matter, my dear?" asked Mrs. Green in alarmed tones, as a few minutes later her husband entered the room where she was working, and throwing himself into a chair, buried his face in his hands. The deacon only groaned. "Surely there is nothing wrong with our minister again," said his wife, knowing that her husband had recently been in the company of Mr. Harris. "No, no, and if so, I, and such as I, would have been to blame, as we were years ago, God forgive us!" Mrs. Green looked at her husband, half-believing that under some sudden strain his mind had lost its balance. "What do you mean? It was Mr. Harris's own fault that he gave way to drink, and you should remember that you and his other deacons were faithful in your constant warnings and long-suffering with him beyond what might have been expected." "We, and only we, caused his downfall, and then reproached him for the disgrace he had brought upon our church," gloomily responded the deacon. "You are speaking in enigmas; do explain yourself, Herbert," impatiently urged his wife. In answer, Mr. Green repeated the words of his pastor, which had made so deep an impression upon his own mind. When he had finished he looked up to find that his wife's tears were dropping upon the work which had fallen from her hands. "Oh, how guilty we have been, Herbert! Well do I remember how persistent I always was in my offers of stimulant to our minister in years gone by, and when he declined I pretended to be hurt, and said he must not refuse anything a lady offered, for she would be sure to know what was good for her guest; and then when I conquered, and he reluctantly took the glass from my hands, I felt so exultant, and all the while I was luring him on to the ruin, which might have been eternal." Mrs. Green broke down utterly, and there was a suspicious huskiness in her husband's voice as he spoke: "Yes, we are indeed guilty, and we may have been no less so in many other instances. Verily, the blood of souls is on our garments. Mary, what shall we do?" "Can you ask, Herbert? I don't mind how inhospitable it may appear; but I am resolved never again to offer stimulants to our guests, lest I make the same fatal mistake."