Then there were other investments of a varied nature, all of which had proven more than ordinarily successful, yet now in his hour of sorrow he could feel no atom of thankfulness, and every hour of his busy life seemed to him to have been wasted.

As he sat staring at the fire he could hardly restrain his feelings, for the words “God will punish you” were ringing in his ears even more clearly now than when he first heard them.

He tried to go over the incidents of that morning when a poor applicant in his office had wrought such havoc with his conscience.

He remembered the five hundred dollars of which he had been robbed, and he also recalled vaguely the conversation he had with a woman inspector in the store immediately after.  Then came the message regarding his son’s condition, then the death chamber, the grave, and now—­desolation.  The door opened softly and a servant entered.  She bore a tray upon which were laid a number of letters.

After she had gone Mr. Forbes rose and looked them over.  He did so listlessly.  He had no heart for business.

The first three were business letters, referred to him by the firm with a brief note, stating their importance as an apology for the intrusion.

The next two letters were letters of condolence from members of his church.  The last was a cheap envelope, neatly sealed and addressed modestly.

This last he turned over and over between his fingers.  There was a vague thought in his brain to which he could give neither shape nor utterance.

Could it be possible?  He asked the question and then sneered in answer.  The thing was incredible, that he, Duncan Forbes, tyrant and slave-driver, should be remembered by his victims, yet the envelope was redolent of sympathetic surprises.

He tore it open finally and glanced at the words.  For just a moment the flame of appreciation sprang up within him.

The note was from Faith Marvin, the new packer whom he had employed.  She was “sorry for him,” she said, “in this hour of his affliction.”

He laid it down with a sigh that ended in a groan.  His brow darkened as he looked at it.  He was aroused and puzzled.  The door opened again and his pastor entered.  He came unannounced and in a shrinking manner.

Mr. Forbes turned toward him indifferently and held out his hand.  He realized that this call was obligatory.  He had been paying for it yearly.

As the two men sat down the minister coughed a little, then he folded his hands meekly—­his host knew what was coming.

“I trust that you have become reconciled to this separation, dear Brother Forbes,” he began solemnly, “and that you can say in your heart ’The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord.’”

Duncan Forbes did not answer for the space of a minute, during which time his pastor watched him furtively from under his eyebrows.