One morning Briggs found himself face to face with a definite temptation. There was an easy way out of his difficulties; in fact, there were a dozen easy ways. There were a dozen men within reach who would be glad to take his notes, to extend them, and to hold them indefinitely. In other words, he could realize on them and meet his obligations, and not only clear himself of pressing debt, but reach a position where he need not think of his notes again. He would be obliged to give no pledge, to bind himself by no promises. The chances were that he should not in the future be called on to do anything that would definitely violate his conscience. It was this consideration that caused him to cover his face with his hands and to lean forward despairingly on his desk. It recalled to him the situation that had placed him in the power of Franklin West. He rose quickly, feeling the blood rush to his face, and he said aloud: “By God, I won’t do it!” Then he seized his hat and walked rapidly out into the street. In the open air he took deep breaths and he had a curious impulse to thrash someone. He was like a man trying to control a wild attack of anger. Meanwhile, in Waverly, Helen Briggs was suffering as poignantly. The sight of the place where she had first met the young man who was to become her husband and where they had known their first great happiness, added to her misery. The old house, too, brought back the memories of her childhood, of her saintly old father, her gentle mother, whose long years of invalidism had only sweetened her character, her fine older brother, whom she had always regarded as a second father, and the two boys who were now leading happy and useful lives ministering to their churches, one in Rochester and one in Syracuse. Among them all, Douglas had been a sort of hero. To the two young clergymen he represented all that was best in a career of public service. On first coming to Waverly, he had brought a letter of introduction to her father and he had quickly been made a family friend. His success in the law and in politics made him a marked man and when Helen’s engagement was announced, it seemed as if everything pointed to a happy marriage. And now, after years of happiness, the shock of disappointment had come so suddenly that Helen could hardly realize it. Often at night it seemed to her that she would wake and find the trouble had been only a ghastly dream. In the morning she would go about the house so dispirited that Miss Munroe would ask her if she were not ill. She began to dread Miss Munroe’s solicitude; it was terrible to think that someone might discover the secret of her unhappiness. But she knew she could not hide it always. She had a feeling that if her brothers were to find it out, all chance of a reconciliation would be gone. With their stern ideas of rectitude, they could never forgive Douglas. But, after all, she reflected, her own ideas were as stern. Sometimes she wondered if she could be wrong,