It was Roger’s hope that, eventually, Mildred, for her own sake, could be persuaded to accompany Belle on some of their pursuits of evening recreation, and he suggested that the latter should persistently try to induce her to go, saying that her health and success in the future required more change and cheerfulness; but Mildred always said “No,” with a quiet emphasis which admitted of no argument.

In truth, when evening came she was too weary to go with him or with any one else, and the first Sunday after her duties at the shop began she could not be present at the chapel and meet her class.

Mr. Wentworth called, fearing she was ill.  She explained in part, and he was quick to understand.  His brow darkened in such a frown that the poor girl grew frightened, and began:  “Indeed, Mr. Wentworth, do not judge me harshly, or think that I let a trifle keep me—­”

Then he awakened to her misapprehension, and coming directly to her side he took her hand, with a face so kind, so full of deep, strong sympathy, that her eyes filled at once.

“My poor child,” he said, “could you imagine I was frowning at you?—­brave little soldier that you are, braver and stronger in your way and place than I in mine.  God bless you, no.  I felt savage to think that in this nineteenth century, and right under the shadow of our church spires, this diabolical cruelty is permitted to go on year after year.  Oh, I know all about it, Miss Mildred; you are not the first one by hundreds and hundreds.  I wish I could give you more than sympathy, and that some other way would open—­we must find some other way for you—­but you have no idea how many are worse off in these bad times than you are—­worthy people who are willing to work, but cannot get work.  If it seems to you that I cannot do very much for you, remember that there are scores who, for the time, seem to have no resources at all.  I trust you may soon hear such tidings from your father as will bring relief to both body and mind.  And now, my child, don’t let a morbid conscience add to your burdens.  When you are as greatly in need of rest as you were last Sunday, don’t come to the chapel.  I’ll take your class, or find a substitute.”

In a few minutes he was gone; but they were not alone, for he had made them conscious of One who is touched with the feeling of our infirmities.

How was the absent husband and father fulfilling the hopes that daily turned to him, but found no reward?  He was literally writhing under chains that, to his horror, he could not break.  He had found on shipboard that sudden and complete abstinence irom the drug brought a torture of mind and body that he could not endure, and now he was learning, in sickening fear, that he could not gradually reduce his daily allowance below a certain point without immediate sufferings beyond his fortitude to sustain.