"Is it not nice that we have a Public Library now!" cried the child in gleeful tone, so sadly in contrast to her brother's thoughts.
"It is, indeed, Puss. I wonder how you young ladies got along before we had one?"
"We did not get along at all, Brother Phillip. Annie Morrison says that it was not living, only staying."
"I suppose Miss Annie must be right," said the lawyer, turning to the other volume.
"'Tales of a Grandfather.' In this you have something nice. I read it when quite a little boy, and I can remember much at it yet."
"It is Scott's, and anything of his I love," said Lottie, with a womanly air.
"It is historical, and such books are great helps to study. You must read some of it this evening, child. I am somewhat, tired, and will be both amused and entertained. You can sit in the old chair and I will play lazybones upon the lounge."
Hand in hand went the pair in the direction of the cottage.
When Phillip Lawson sought the asylum of his own room he knelt down, and offered up a fervent prayer at the Throne of Mercy.
A sense of relief followed, and a light seemed to break forth amidst the gloom—a light that lightened the dark path of life and portended to usher in a new and happier day. The last look of Hubert Tracy received interpretation, and as Phillip Lawson thought over and over of the deep abyss into which he was so nearly to be plunged, tried hard to feel kindly towards the perpetrator of the double-sided crime.