Janet, wrapped up in a large white shawl which threw her dark face into startling relief, was seated with her eyes turned anxiously towards the door when Mr. Tryan entered.  He had not seen her since their interview at Sally Martin’s long months ago; and he felt a strong movement of compassion at the sight of the pain-stricken face which seemed to bear written on it the signs of all Janet’s intervening misery.  Her heart gave a great leap, as her eyes met his once more.  No! she had not deceived herself:  there was all the sincerity, all the sadness, all the deep pity in them her memory had told her of; more than it had told her, for in proportion as his face had become thinner and more worn, his eyes appeared to have gathered intensity.

He came forward, and, putting out his hand, said, ’I am so glad you sent for me—­I am so thankful you thought I could be any comfort to you.’  Janet took his hand in silence.  She was unable to utter any words of mere politeness, or even of gratitude; her heart was too full of other words that had welled up the moment she met his pitying glance, and felt her doubts fall away.

They sat down opposite each other, and she said in a low voice, while slow difficult tears gathered in her aching eyes,—­’I want to tell you how unhappy I am—­how weak and wicked.  I feel no strength to live or die.  I thought you could tell me something that would help me.’  She paused.

‘Perhaps I can,’ Mr. Tryan said, ’for in speaking to me you are speaking to a fellow-sinner who has needed just the comfort and help you are needing.’

‘And you did find it?’

‘Yes; and I trust you will find it.’

‘O, I should like to be good and to do right,’ Janet burst forth; ’but indeed, indeed, my lot has been a very hard one.  I loved my husband very dearly when we were married, and I meant to make him happy—­I wanted nothing else.  But he began to be angry with me for little things and ...  I don’t want to accuse him ... but he drank and got more and more unkind to me, and then very cruel, and he beat me.  And that cut me to the heart.  It made me almost mad sometimes to think all our love had come to that ...  I couldn’t bear up against it.  I had never been used to drink anything but water.  I hated wine and spirits because Robert drank them so; but one day when I was very wretched, and the wine was standing on the table, I suddenly ...  I can hardly remember how I came to do it ...  I poured some wine into a large glass and drank it.  It blunted my feelings. and made me more indifferent.  After that, the temptation was always coming, and it got stronger and stronger.  I was ashamed, and I hated what I did; but almost while the thought was passing through my mind that I would never do it again, I did it.  It seemed as if there was a demon in me always making me rush to do what I longed not to do.  And I thought all the more that God was cruel; for if He had not sent me that dreadful trial, so much worse than other women