He spoke most beautiful to me after that, not putting a great many questions, but talking in a gentle way, like a father might talk. He said how grieved and disappointed my father and mother were, and how good they'd always been to me, and how sad it was I should grieve them. That made my tears come fast, and he stopped and looked at me. "No," said he. "She is not hardened. It isn't hardness." And then he says, "Kitty," says he, "you want to get back into the right road, don't you? I know you do," says he. "Yes," I whispered. "And you are sorry too," says he. I said "Yes" again. "And you'll tell your father and mother so, Kitty?" "Yes," I sobbed; "only—" "But there mustn't be any 'only,'" says he. "You've got to give up your own way, and be ready to have God's way—and that means submitting to your parents," says he. "No good to talk of being sorry without submitting too. You must tell your father and mother you won't go against them, nor hide anything again. Repentance means turning from evil. It doesn't mean just saying you're sorry, and going on still in the same way." I knew this; but still the thought of Walter came up. Mr. Armstrong went on next to speak of the sin of my conduct towards God. He spoke of the dreadful nature of untruth, and how God looked upon falsehood. He told me of the danger of it, and how if I got entangled in paths of deceit, I should be dragged down and down, nobody could tell how low. Then he reminded me of my Confirmation, and how I had solemnly promised to serve Christ the Lord. "But this isn't serving Christ," he said sadly. "This has been serving the evil one." And he said how I must have grieved the gentle Spirit of God by what I'd done, till I felt as if my heart would break with listening to him. "Kitty, don't you be half and half now," said he; "don't let it be a sham repentance. Be real and thorough, whatever else you are. Make up your mind to give up all, to let everything go, rather than grieve the Holy Spirit any more. Don't cling to your own way. It isn't worth while! The things you have cared for lately are not worth having when you get them. The cost is too great. It is not worth while, Kitty," says he again, and I couldn't afterward forget the tone of those words. "There's so much to lose on the one side, and so little to gain on the other." But the bonds were holding me yet. While I listened I was touched; still I felt that, if the choice was mine, I couldn't choose to give up Mr. Russell. Mr. Armstrong's words pulled hard; and in the midst of them came a great pull the other way—a sudden thought of Walter's voice calling me "his own little Kitty." And I was dragged in half between them—poor silly child that I was—turning from gold to hanker after common dust! I did promise faithfully to beg father's pardon next time I saw him; but Mr. Armstrong couldn't get me to say all he wanted.