have to bear, I should not have done wrong in that way.  I suppose it is wicked to think so ...  I feel as if there must be goodness and right above us, but I can’t see it, I can’t trust in it.  And I have gone on in that way for years and years.  At one time it used to be better now and then, but everything has got worse lately.  I felt sure it must soon end somehow.  And last night he turned me out of doors ...  I don’t know what to do.  I will never go back to that life again if I can help it; and yet everything else seems so miserable.  I feel sure that demon will always be urging me to satisfy the craving that comes upon me, and the days will go on as they have done through all those miserable years.  I shall always be doing wrong, and hating myself after—­sinking lower and lower, and knowing that I am sinking.  O can you tell me any way of getting strength?  Have you ever known any one like me that got peace of mind and power to do right?  Can you give me any comfort—­any hope?’

While Janet was speaking, she had forgotten everything but her misery and her yearning for comfort.  Her voice had risen from the low tone of timid distress to an intense pitch of imploring anguish.  She clasped her hands tightly, and looked at Mr. Tryon with eager questioning eyes, with parted, trembling lips, with the deep horizontal lines of overmastering pain on her brow.  In this artificial life of ours, it is not often we see a human face with all a heart’s agony in it, uncontrolled by self-consciousness; when we do see it, it startles us as if we had suddenly waked into the real world of which this everyday one is but a puppet-show copy.  For some moments Mr. Tryan was too deeply moved to speak.

‘Yes, dear Mrs. Dempster,’ he said at last, ’there is comfort, there is hope for you.  Believe me there is, for I speak from my own deep and hard experience.’  He paused, as if he had not made up his mind to utter the words that were urging themselves to his lips.  Presently he continued, ’Ten years ago, I felt as wretched as you do.  I think my wretchedness was even worse than yours, for I had a heavier sin on my conscience.  I had suffered no wrong from others as you have, and I had injured another irreparably in body and soul.  The image of the wrong I had done pursued me everywhere, and I seemed on the brink of madness.  I hated my life, for I thought, just as you do, that I should go on falling into temptation and doing more harm in the world; and I dreaded death, for with that sense of guilt on my soul, I felt that whatever state I entered on must be one of misery.  But a dear friend to whom I opened my mind showed me it was just such as I—­the helpless who feel themselves helpless—­that God specially invites to come to Him, and offers all the riches of His salvation:  not forgiveness only; forgiveness would be worth little if it left us under the powers of our evil passions; but strength—­that strength which enables us to conquer sin.’