When he lifted himself up his face was full of peace. CHAPTER XXXIV "William," said Dr. Lavendar, "you may tell me anything I ought to know about Mrs. Richie." The doctor looked at him with a start, and a half-spoken question. "Yes; she told me. But I want to ask you about the man. She didn't say much about him." This was Sunday evening; David had gone to bed, and Danny had climbed up into Dr. Lavendar's chair, and been gently deposited on the hearth-rug. "No, Daniel; not to-night, sir. I've got to have my chair just this once." William had come in for his usual smoke, but he had been more than usually silent. When Dr. Lavendar gave his calm permission, the doctor's wretched perplexity of the past month could hardly find words. He said, first of all, "David? Of course you will take him away. It will break her heart!" "A broken heart is not such a bad thing, Willy. Our Heavenly Father does not despise it." "Dr. Lavendar, why can't she keep him? She'll never see that scoundrel again!" "Do you think a woman with such a story is fit to bring up a child, William?" The doctor was silent. "She thinks not, herself," said Dr. Lavendar. "Does she?" William King said; and a minute afterwards fumbled in his coat tails for his pocket-handkerchief. "What is she going to do?" he asked huskily. "She feels that she had better leave Old Chester." "Do you think so, sir?" Dr. Lavendar sighed. "I would like to have her here; I would like to take care of her, for a while. But I don't think she could stand it; on your account." "My account!" William King pushed his chair back, and got on his feet; "Dr. Lavendar, I--I--" "She would feel the embarrassment of your knowledge," said the old man. Dr. King sat down. Then he said, "I am the last man to judge her." "'Beginning at the eldest, even unto the last,'" murmured Dr. Lavendar. "Shame is a curious thing, William. It's like some of your medicines. The right amount cures. Too much kills. I've seen that with hard drinkers. Where a drunkard is a poor, uneducated fellow, shame gives him a good boost towards decency. But a man of education, William, a man of opportunity--if he wakes up to what he has been doing, shame gives him such a shove he is apt to go all round the circle, and come up just where he started! Shame is a blessed thing,--when you don't get too much of it. She would get too much of it here. But--" he stopped and smiled; "sin has done its divine work, I think." "Sin?" "Yes," said Dr. Lavendar, cheerfully; "have you ever noticed that every single human experience--except, perhaps, the stagnation of conceit; I haven't found anything hopeful in that yet; but maybe I shall some day!--but, except for conceit, I have never known any human experience of pain or sin that could not be the gate of heaven. Mind! I don't say that it always is; but it can be. Has that ever occurred to you?" "Well, no," the doctor confessed; "I can't say that it has."