'Yes, it can,' he said impetuously. 'That kind of disgrace hangs on a man all his days. He has to bear the sins of others. That is where the injustice comes in. The innocent must suffer for and with the guilty always. There is no escape.' Gladys sighed, and her face became pale and weary-looking. Never had life appeared so hard, so full of pain and care. Looking at the face of Walter, which she had always thought so noble and so good,--the index to a soul striving, though sometimes but feebly, yet striving always after what was highest and best,--looking at his face then, and seeing it so shadowed by the bitterness of his lot, her own simple faith for the moment seemed to fail. 'You saw him, then, this morning, and I hope you admired him,' said Walter, with harsh scorn. 'Reeking with drink, speaking thick through it at ten o'clock in the morning! What chance has a fellow with a father like that? Ten to one, I go over to drink myself one of these days. Well, I might do worse. It drowns care, they say, and I know it destroys feelings, which, from my experience, seem only given for our torture.' Gladys gave a sob, and turned aside to the safe. That sound recalled Walter to himself, and in a moment his mood changed. His eyes melted into tenderness as he looked upon the pale, slight girl, whom his words in some sad way had wounded. 'Forgive me. I don't know what I am saying; but I had no right to vex you, the only angel I know in this whole city of Glasgow.' His extravagant speech provoked a smile on her face, and she turned her head from where she knelt before the safe, and lifted her large earnest eyes to his. 'How you talk! You must learn to control yourself a little more. It is self-control that makes a man,' she said quietly. 'I do not know how to comfort you, Walter, in this trouble, which seems so much heavier than even I think; but in the end it will be for good. Everything is, you know, to them that love God.' She was so familiar with Scripture, and depended so entirely on it for comfort and strength, that her words carried conviction with them. They fell on the riven heart of Walter like balm, and restored a measure of peace to it. Before he could make any answer, a quick knocking, and the uplifting of the feeble voice from below, indicated that the old man was impatient of the girl's delay. She hastily lifted the pocket-book, relocked the safe door, and, with a nod to Walter, ran down-stairs. 'What kept you so long chattering up-stairs?' queried the old man, with all the peevishness of a sick person. 'You don't care a penny-piece, either of you, though I died this very moment.' 'Oh, Uncle Abel, hold your tongue; you know that is not true,' she said quickly. 'Walter is in great trouble this morning. Something has happened to his sister.' 'Ay, what is it, eh?' 'I don't know exactly, but she has left home.'