"You would be starting life together with something withheld from her; there would be no thorough trust in each other. And, suppose some one told her of the occurrence? Such a thing would not be impossible. Better lose her now than lose her respect when you are tied together for life." There was a tender pleading in her voice which quite broke David down. "I believe you're right. I'll do it," he said in a broken voice. The next morning he was unusually quiet; during the walk to the meeting in the afternoon he was still as absorbed. Bessie did not know what to make of matters, trying in vain to read the secret of the gloom on his face. "I never knew he was of a sulky turn before," she said to herself; "if this is having a lover it's a mighty queer business. I wonder if it's something I've done wrong! I wonder if he expected I should have gone down on my knees in ecstasy last night!" But wonder as she might there came no answer. On the journey home David made a desperate effort to get the unpleasant task over. "Bessie, there's something I want to tell you which I ought to have told you last night, but did not like to." There was such a ring of pain in the voice that Bessie's heart was touched at once, and for the first time, and of her own accord, she slipped her hand into his arm. The little action was like balm of Gilead to David. "When Mrs. Waring engaged me, she took me without a character," he went on. "She did me, too," said Bessie, "so we're in the same boat." "I had used some of my master's money, and before I could pay him back he found it out. I was going to return it, for I had money in the savings bank." "Did you pay him back?" "Yes, every penny; but he would give me no reference, and I was dreadfully afraid mother would find it out. It would have broken her heart." "Well, that's all done with now, so forget it. You've good character enough now for the two of us." "And you don't think any the less of me?" he asked, bending anxiously towards her. "I think all the more of you," she said, looking up frankly into his face and pressing her hand upon his arm more firmly, "only it's made me feel rather queer, for I shall now be obliged to tell you not simply one bad thing I've done, but heaps. In fact, I don't know where to begin." "That's all nonsense," he said. "I know you are trying to cheer me, and I bless you for it, but there's still another thing I must say, for I want that there should never be a shadow between us. I did not want to tell you of my slip. I don't want you to think I was frank enough to tell you all this of my own accord. It was Mrs. Waring who pressed me to tell you." "That's just like her; she is a dear." "So she is; she's been the making of me." "So she has of me. Leastways," added Bessie in her characteristic manner, "she is making me. The business is not near finished yet." "It's all right," whispered David to Mrs. Waring as they went into tea. "I'm so glad," was her reply, "doubly glad."