"You are not tempted to intoxication from drink," he observed, "but you are tempted to intoxication from anger. And while intoxicated from one cause or the other, we are both led to do and to say things which we may afterwards bitterly repent. Sister, the same Word of God which bids us 'be sober,' and 'provide things honest in the sight of all men,' bids us also learn of Him who was meek and lowly, and tells us that 'he that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city.'" * * Prov. xvi. 32. "Certainly my temper did get the better of me to-day," said Miriam, frankly, for she was of a candid and open disposition, and could not deny that she had been violent towards Caroline, and insolent in her manner towards Mrs. Mellor. "Ay, let me repeat your own words in reference to myself," cried Hamil; "the enemy took you at disadvantage, he struck you down for a moment, but you won't give in, you're up and at him again." "I don't see what you would have me do," said Miriam, looking distressed. "Return home, tell your mistress frankly that you know that you were too hasty, that if she will overlook what has passed, you will be glad to remain in your place." "I should not like to do that, and yet—if it were not for Caroline," began Miriam, in a hesitating tone. "Caroline is to be settled with too," said Hamil. "Go to her, tell her that you are sorry that you gave way to anger (though you had enough to provoke you to it, I own), offer to let bygones be bygones, and—" "Never! I could not do that! I could never humble myself so!" exclaimed Miriam. "There is pride up in arms!" said Hamil. "Satan has not, perhaps, in all his army, a more dangerous spirit than he. Stand on your guard—he's upon you!" "After all that has passed between us, I could not speak to Caroline!" cried Miriam. "Not if it were your clear duty to do so, not in obedience to your Captain's command?" "There are some things too hard for flesh and blood!" exclaimed Miriam. Hamil said nothing in answer to this; he continued his walk in silence, but bent his steps towards Albany Street, which he soon re-entered, Miriam still by his side. He went on without speaking a word, till he reached the public-house from which he had been a short time before so hastily summoned by his sister. Hamil stood still before it, and abruptly bade Miriam good-bye. "Where are you going?" she inquired. "Where I don't want you to follow me again," he said gloomily, almost sternly. "I have a feverish thirst on me, Miriam; I know that I ought to abstain; but there are some things too hard for flesh and blood, as you told me a minute ago." All that Hamil's words meant flashed upon Miriam Macbean; his danger was, in some respects like, while yet so unlike, her own. Each had a duty to perform, each had a sacrifice to make; Miriam had urged her brother to the conflict, and now, like a coward, was flinching from it herself.