As he neared the hotel, he paused and listened. Sweetly floated from the parlors on the still evening air, the grand words and melodious strains of “Lead, Kindly Light.” It was his sister’s voice, singing as she never had before, so it seemed to him. Almost divine became the music. Such strains as cause us for the moment to forget the outside world with its laughter and tears, and fill our minds with nobler and better thoughts. [Illustration: Lead kindly light] And though the singer knew it not, there was one who heard and never forgot that hymn, which for the time soothed his wearied heart as he listened in the silence of the night. * * * * * The bustling, good-natured throng, crowding New York’s busy thoroughfares, and the brilliantly lighted show-windows, told to all that Christmas eve, with all that it suggests, had fallen upon the city. On Fifth avenue a man hurried past the wealthy and cheerful homes of the most fortunate citizens. The electric light glared upon him and revealed the face of an old friend, Ralph Leighton. But how changed from the handsome Ralph of former days! His unfortunate love affair, followed by the death of that sister whom he so dearly loved, had added many a year to the once youthful face. “I might do it,” he muttered as he strode along, “I might dash George Wardsworth from his proud position to the level of a beggar; I wonder if the haughty Grace would come to him then. To-night George Wardsworth stands on the verge of financial ruin; if he can stave off his creditors for another week, the tide will change, and he will remain as he is, wealthy, happy, and loved. To-morrow I will tell the secret to his creditors, they will foreclose, and George Wardsworth will be a penniless man, and I shall have had my revenge.” Wrapping his ulster more closely about him to keep warm his revengeful spirit, he passed on, but in a short time paused, attracted by the unusually cheerful appearance of one of the mansions. He gazed into the window. The sight for a moment unnerved him. There seated at the piano amid all the luxury of the Egerton mansion was the one who had made him the hardhearted, revengeful man that he had become,—with her face turned to a sofa on which easily reclined George Wardsworth. How contented and happy they looked! [Illustration: Woman playing paino] He had not known where Grace was living, and this sudden discovery maddened him, and he muttered, “I will do it. George Wardsworth, beware!” He started on to carry out his threat, when the sound of music recalled him. As though guided by the hand of fate, Grace had turned to the piano and run her fingers over the ivory keys. Now instrument and voice chorded together, and softly there came to the revengeful listener, the sweet harmony of Cardinal Newman’s hymn. He waited through it all, and as “And with the morn those angels’ faces smile, Which I have loved, long since and lost, a while.”